


A Random Encounter

by Armengard



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Kidnapping, Bandits & Outlaws, Eventual Smut, F/F, Feels, Horses, Lady Lovin' in the Wild West, Random Encounters, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Yee-haw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26661517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armengard/pseuds/Armengard
Summary: Small-time outlaw Sadie Adler has a random encounter on the hard, lonely road outside Valentine.—RDR2 AU where Arthur died young, Sadie still lost her husband and her way, and Mary finds herself in need of a helping hand.
Relationships: Sadie Adler/Mary Linton
Comments: 28
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

Now, should go without saying, really, but Sadie Adler—going on five-year-widow, former unrenowned member of a patchy, rag-tag bully of a gang and current, small-time outlaw left mostly to her own devices these days—ain’t never been one to stick her nose where it don’t belong. 

See, world the way it was now, you wouldn’t last long ‘less you knew how to mind your own business. Some fellers, they wouldn’t think twice ‘bout putting a coupla bullets in your back—or hell, even your front—iffin’ you so much as looked at ‘em crossways. 

Ain’t news to Sadie, that—she’d learned hard and fast the unspoken rules of the fading western outlaws during those first few months goin’ it alone. Being an outlaw herself, here in the year 1903, turn of the goddamn century, and a woman besides, tryna make her way in a hard, merciless country built for and by cruel, wicked men, had taught her well ‘nough. 

So Sadie, she minded her own business, kept her head down and her hat low, and went her own way in life, and everyone else, they went theirs. 

(But that don’t mean that’s how it _always_ was. Sadie, she weren’t no fool, nor a gutless coward. She didn’t duck her head and cower when fellers tried to get one over on her; like if someone tried to swipe a well-earned payday from under her nose, or stuck her up at gunpoint in the desolate flats outside town, or crept into her camp late at night to filch her valuables while she was dead-tired and sleeping hard under the stars on her bedroll. 

No, Sadie wouldn’t stand for that business, not for a second, and anyone who tried for what they thought might be an easy score, well… needless to say, there weren’t no second attempts, no sir.)

That being said, if it were just a stiff but harmless nod from a fellow road-weary traveler trotting on by, or a hearty wave of a friendly feller trundling past in a wagon, or a hard stare by a shifty-looking, cold-eyed stranger on some quiet backwoods trail, well, Sadie was just fine with that. She’d wave, or nod, or glare back and move on. She weren’t looking for trouble, honest, and sometimes turning a blind eye was the right thing to do, to avoid getting your damn fool self shot right to pieces.

But, see, there was looking the other way when a coupla fellers in black-and-white prison stripes and shackled-up ankles went tearing by, hooting n’ hollering at their newfound freedom, and letting ‘em along without lifting a finger; or pausing at the sight of two fellers arguing at the back of a wagon as they tried their damndest to bust the lock of an obviously stolen safe with all manner of tools and failing, then seeing her and suggesting none too gently she be on her way, to which Sadie agreed without complaint, tipping her hat and calling out, “Pardon me, gennel’men,” ‘fore spurring her horse onward, no nevermind to what she’d just witnessed; and then… 

Well, then there was now.

 _Now_ being Sadie, traveling slow and steady on the worn dirt road leading westward outta Valentine, day-old black eye still stinging something awful, swelled up nice and purple from a vicious tussle the other night in the saloon back alley with some stupid feller who’d picked a fight with the wrong lady. She’d shut him up, that’s for certain—her hands still smarted under her gloves from all the punching, head hung low and weary under the weight of a dully throbbing hangover, nevermind the little sleep and almost no rest she’d gotten these past few days; being an outlaw in the free states, it weren’t easy, and Sadie, she weren’t no spring chicken. Prob’ly, she should be hanging up this kind of life and thinking of settling down. 

But she’d done all that before, years ago, and she already knew how it ended—nowhere good.

It was dusk, sun bleeding red ‘cross the far jagged range of the Grizzlies West. Most folks, they’d be heading home ‘bout now, to warm food and a soft bed. Sadie, well… she didn’t have no home, not anymore. No place to hang her hat or rest her tired feet. She went where the wind took her, and stayed where an outlaw like her could; cheap hotels or dirty saloons, or most often camping in the wilds outside town. She had to travel often, see, keep to where the quick, dirty little jobs were, and the money she could earn from ‘em, made mostly legal, so to speak, and when those jobs couldn't be found, well... then she'd go for the stupid people she could rob the money from was, iffin’ it came to that. 

(And it did, not often, but more’n Sadie liked.)

She’d had the road to herself for a time, just her and her horse, wind dry and gentle 'gainst her face, birds chirping faintly, easing down for the night. Sadie weren’t paying much attention, smoking a sour tobacco cigarette and thinking ‘bout her aching eye, her near empty wallet, and where she might find a place to sleep tonight. 

Didn’t hear it, at first, the sound coming up behind her, quiet and muffled, then louder, faster, a steady, drumming tha-thump-tha-thump- _tha-THUMP_ , sounding almost like— 

_Christ!_

A full lathered horse, screaming shrill and wild and half-crazed, shot by so close the sudden wind near snatched Sadie’s hat right off her head. The feller on its back was kicking hard and mean at the horse’s raw-sided ribs, looking like he was hanging on for dear life. Sadie clapped her hand over her hat, jumping in surprise and startling her own horse, a big speckled brute of a Mustang named Hera, who snorted and jerked his head up from his plodding walk. 

“Th' hell’s yer problem—?” Sadie snapped sharply at the man’s retreating back.

The feller didn’t so much as look around. “Outta my way, ‘less y' want a bullet in yer gut!” he snarled over his shoulder. 

Now, Sadie sure didn’t want no bullets in her gut, nor anywhere else on her person, and it weren’t like rudeness or manners mattered any out here on the open road. She’d been threatened with worse, before, and turned the other cheek. She was set on letting ‘im go. 

Then she saw the woman.

She was facedown and struggling something fierce, slung on her belly over the flexing rump of the man’s fast-galloping horse, bouncing up and down with every jarring stride, wrists bound behind her back with coarse rope and a strip of cloth tied ‘cross her mouth in a crude gag. She wore a fancy-looking dark blue blouse, ripped on one sleeve, and a long black skirt streaked with red dirt as though from a tussle, dark hair unraveling from a loose bun at her nape, long hanks dangling in her face, gone red from her muffled screaming. 

For just a second, the woman turned her head and looked back at Sadie, and their eyes met and held fast. The world seemed to slow and almost stop. Even in the rapidly growing distance 'tween ‘em, Sadie could see it the woman's face, clear as day—the stark fear. The panicked helplessness. The mute, desperate plea. 

But there was something else, too; a fierce light lurking in the depths of those dark eyes, behind the panic, like a spark ‘bout to burst on dry tinder into a raging fire. It was a promise of fight and fury, of cold, bloody vengeance. One look, and Sadie knew the second that feller stopped and tried to haul the woman off his horse to do whatever no-good deed he’d been set upon whenever he’d first grabbed her, the woman’d be ready to do everything she could to stop ‘im, maybe even kill ‘im, come hell or high water. Hell, she’d die fighting, it came to that.

Sadie, she knew that look, that familiar, feral light. She’d seen it for years now, a thousand times or more, just ‘bout every goddamn time she looked in a mirror.

The moment broke, then, the woman tryna shout something to Sadie through the gag— _Help!_ maybe, or _please!_ —but then the feller snarled, “Shaddap, you!” and reached back and cuffed the woman on the side of the head so hard her eyes rolled. She went limp, neck lolling ‘gainst the horse’s scrawny haunch. 

Seeing that—the silent appeal, the muffled scream, the cruel blow—Sadie’s blood flushed red-hot through her veins. ‘Fore she could think any better of it or try and talk herself outta such foolishness, she dug her heels in, shouted, “ _Yah!_ ” and spurred her beast of a mount into a sudden charge. Hera gave a ferocious whinny and gave chase, eager for a race.

The feller glanced back, saw ‘em coming. “Stay back!” he hollered. When that didn’t work, he tried, “I’m warnin’ ya!” 

Sadie ignored him. Hera was far bigger and stronger than his sorry-looking nag. Faster, too. Feller’d never outrun ‘em. Feller figured that out, too, after almost two miles of Sadie dogging right on his heels, and was forced to slow from his frantic gallop. Finally he cantered down to a full stop, sawing his reins to drag his foaming horse ‘round to face Sadie on the road.

Sadie drew Hera up short, too, skidding to a halt ‘bout a dozen paces away. Not even winded by the run, Hera snorted loudly and tossed his head. Sadie eased the brim of her hat up with her thumb, fixing the feller with a nasty look, upper lip curled into a mean sneer. She inhaled deep from the cigarette she’d held clenched ‘tween her teeth ‘til now, then exhaled slowly through her nose. The woman sprawled over the skinny horse’s rump wasn’t moving at all now.

Using her knees, Sadie walked Hera a coupla steps forward. Closer now, she noticed the feller ‘cross from her looked like he’d recently rolled with a bear—he had a split lip gone fat and purple, scabbed over with dried blood, and fingernail claw-marks raking down his cheek, his shirt stretched and torn at the collar. 

The corner of Sadie’s mouth quirked. The woman, she sure hadn’t gone without a fight. _Good on her,_ Sadie thought, feeling oddly proud of the stranger. She knew even the weakest, most delicate-seeming creatures could fight the fiercest when it mattered. 

Looking scared, the feller drew the flap of his cracked leather coat back to bare a rusty revolver holstered at his hip. Damn thing looked like it was from the Civil War. Prob’ly hadn’t been cleaned since then, neither.

“Y' keep goin’, y' know what’s good fer ya,” the man growled through his thick lip, trying for a dangerous scowl and getting more of a pithy wince.

Sadie removed her cigarette and spat artfully to the side, then flicked the smoldering butt away to fizzle out on the bare ground. From what she could tell, the feller’d grabbed the woman fairly recently, maybe even just that morning, most likely set on using her for some sort of ransom, prob’ly thinking by her fine clothes and bearing she had a rich daddy or a worried husband he could sell ‘er back to for a decent price. A good enough plan, if a little simple. Too bad Sadie was ‘bout to ruin it.

“Y’ hear me?” said the man, like she were deaf or something.

Casual as could be, Sadie leaned back in her saddle, one gloved hand held loose on the reins, the other resting at her hip, right on the polished butt of one of her pristinely-kept custom Cattleman revolvers. 

“Maybe y’shud be thankin’ bout whut’s good fer _you_ , feller,” she drawled. “Clearly, th’ lady don’ wan’ nunna whut yer sellin’.”

“Now look,” said the feller, all the bluster gone right outta him already, voice high and scared and weasley. He musta been hoping Sadie’d turn tail the moment he showed some teeth, but this cur was all bark and no bite. “I don’t wanna start nothin’, jus’ wanna go ‘long my way. Y’ want money? I kin share.” He thrust a hand into his pocket and threw a small clump of bills onto the road, wrinkled dollars fluttering down to the sun-baked rocks like dry leaves.

Someone else, maybe, woulda been tempted by the money, and picked it up and gone on their way, but Sadie, she just scowled. Feller kept on, though, yanking a sparkling dark green brooch from another pocket. It caught and shone brightly in the last few rays of the setting sun, making Sadie squint for an instant.

“Y’ want this? Take it!” said the feller, and threw that on the ground, too. “Jus’ leave me t’ my bus’ness. I ain’t hurtin’ no one.”

"No?” said Sadie, flicking her eyes to the woman slumped on the horse behind him. “Ain’t too sure ‘bout that.” When the feller didn’t speak, she tightened her grip on her revolver’s handle, loosening the gun in its holster and watching the feller squirm at the quiet sound of leather creaking. Then she said, no-nonsense and hard, “Ah sugges' y'hand over yer passenger, there. Nice n’ slow, too.”

Most people, they knew when to quit ‘fore it were too late, when to stop and save their skins, but this feller—he was dumber'n Sadie’d thought.

The man tightened his grip on his own gun, face shining with sweat, hands trembling visibly. “I ain’t warnin’ ya again,” he said stubbornly. “Go on yer way, now, stranger.”

Sadie scowled. “Ah ain’t too keen on r'peatin’ mahself, neither, so—”

Quick as a flash, the feller drew his gun, but by the time it was even pointing at her, Sadie’d already slid hers free ‘fore she could even really think 'bout it, her hand reacting automatically with a smooth, practiced snap-a’-the-wrist, lift-and-aim straight from the hip. She fired off a single shot that cracked through the air like heat lightning, echoing past the rocky valleys and empty fields beyond. 

Before, well… _everything_ , Sadie might’ve aimed for a hand, an arm, or even the ground, just to spook the feller’s horse or scare the dumb fool good. Teach ‘im a lesson, have mercy—whatever you might call it, something so foolish and flighty as that.

But the softhearted woman who might’ve warned ‘stead of killed, she was dead now. She had been for years. A cold-blooded murderer and outlaw was all that’d been left behind to stand vigil at her grave.

So Sadie, she shot the feller square in the face, the single fired bullet drilling straight through his eye socket and out the back of his head. He dropped dead a second later, unfired gun falling to the dirt and body flopping over sideways. His boot caught in his stirrup, and he hung there on his horse for a moment, saddle twisting under the upset weight. 

Startled by the gunshot, his blown horse whinnied and reared, spilling the limp woman off its rump. She hit the ground with a muffled _thud_ and a bloom of red dirt as the frenzied horse turned and bolted off down the road, dragging the dead man’s body along as it went.

In less’n ten seconds, horse and man had faded to a faint streamer of dust. Sadie reholstered her still-smoking gun with care and heeled Hera a few plodding steps forward to peer down at the woman sprawled far below on the ground. Still out cold, by the looks of it. Alone, out here in the sweltering day heat and bitter night cold of West Elizabeth’s high summer, she’d die from exposure in only a few hours—if the coyotes or the wolves didn’t get her first, that is. Or more would-be kidnappers.

Hera bowed his head and sniffed, curious, at the woman’s tangle of thick, dark hair, come loose over her face and shoulders. Sighing, Sadie swung a leg over his arched neck and dismounted. She weren’t exactly sure why she’d done what she had just now, but, well, there weren’t no going back, was there?

She lit a fresh cigarette, inhaled deep, then held it pinched ‘tween her lips as she bent down and hauled the woman up by the armpits ‘fore slinging her up and over her left shoulder. Weren’t hard, like picking up a big sack of potatoes; Sadie’d carried heavier before, and thrashing besides—bounties were decent pay when she could get ‘em, and usually the fellers didn’t take so kindly to being carried as this woman here. 

She clucked her tongue at Hera, who obediently kept still as she stowed the woman carefully on his formidable rump. ‘Fore she remounted, she made sure to pick up the scattered billfold the feller’d tried to bribe her with. Money was money, after all. The brooch, too, went into her pocket, after a quick look. Worth a pretty penny, that, if she were lucky and it were real. If not, well, it’d still be enough to keep her fed for a bit, at least.

She clucked her tongue again. Hera plodded over, and Sadie hauled herself up into the saddle, taking a moment to check that the woman was alright behind her and wouldn’t fall off, then gave her horse a flick of the reins. “Les' go, boy.”

Hera snorted and obeyed, cantering along the road at a sedate pace as Sadie smoked and wondered to herself just what in the hell she thought she was doing, tryna be some kind of goddamn hero.

—

Just ‘fore the last few rays of sunset disappeared behind the far horizon, Sadie made camp in a thicket a-ways off the road, where her fire wouldn’t be seen and bandits wouldn’t think to check.

Dry tinder was easy to find, and after only a few minutes she’d gotten herself a good little blaze going. Water, she fetched from a weakly running brook nearby, for herself and Hera. She brushed her horse down, gave ‘im something to eat, then gave herself something too, though it weren’t much—cold vegetables in a can was the usual, with some occasional hunting on the side when she could, but game was sparse and most days Sadie was too tired and impatient for it.

The woman, she set propped up ‘gainst the saddlebags nearest the fire, so she could get warm. Didn’t snow in this part of West Elizabeth, but the breeze coming off the northern Ambarinos weren’t exactly the warmest. Hot as it might get during the day, nights were always a cold, miserable thing to get through. After a bit, she fetched her discarded coat—old and thick with the scent of horse and smoke, but warm—and put that over her, too, just in case.

She finished her soggy greenbeans in her usual silence, then threw the can into the fire to blacken. Staring out into the vast night surrounding ‘em, she smoked another cigarette and listened to the distant wail of a passing train. Usually, night like this, she’d play her harmonica, find some solace in the lonely, warbling tune, though with an audience now, it felt far too personal.

After an hour or so, she knelt by the woman to check on her. She was breathing alright, but still hadn’t stirred at all, though Sadie figured she was just out good and cold and looking to stay that way for now. 

With a stray finger, she brushed a snarl of hair off the woman’s slack face. She took in long eyelashes, a round, delicate jaw. Dark hair. Dusky skin. Beauty mark on her cheek. Hands real slender and soft-looking, like she’d never known a moment of physical hardship ‘til recently. She didn’t wear a ring, though that didn’t mean nothing—either she was unmarried, or had lost it ‘long the way, or maybe even that rotten feller’d stolen it off her.

At first glance, she looked younger’n Sadie, though not by much. Her frame was curvier, with smaller shoulders and wider hips, but beneath all the finery, there seemed an edge to her, a honed sharpness. She was soft, sure, but Sadie could tell somehow that she’d struggled all the same in life, in her own way. Just 'cause she weren't covered in scars or callouses didn't mean she'd never known pain. Sadie could see that, and she respected it.

Thankfully, she found no visible injuries other’n the knot on the woman’s temple where the feller’d cuffed her, a few blackened drops of blood dried to the weal. Sadie took off her gloves, found a clean kerchief, wet it with water from her canteen, and began to wipe it carefully away, then kept on and cleaned up the rest of her face, too, patting at the red dust stuck fast to her brow. A bead or two of cold water dripped and hit the woman’s nose with an audible _plip_. Under all that dirt, she was a pretty lil’ thing, and—

Suddenly the woman gasped and jerked awake with a start, eyes huge and wide and scared. Sadie froze, caught with her hand outstretched, damp kerchief still clutched in her bare fingers. 

Neither of ‘em moved.

“Now look—” Sadie said, and then, ‘stead of screaming or fainting or tryna run away, the woman lunged right for her with a vicious snarl, knocking her hat off with a flailing fist and snapping her teeth at Sadie’s hand like some wild thing gone rabid, eyes feral as a mountain cat’s—

“ _Shit!_ ” yelled Sadie, falling back, her other hand slapping on instinct for her gun on her belt. If she had to shoot this fool woman right after saving her, she’d never—

The woman went still then, seeming to recognize Sadie from that split second on the road, or at least figure she weren’t no threat. Or, well, less of a threat than some dirty no-good feller.

“W... where—?” she said, voice shaky, faint with fear.

“S’alrigh',” said Sadie, low and calm like when she soothed a spooked horse back to her hand. “Yer safe.” Careful-like, she got her feet back under her and knelt, hands up to show she weren’t armed.

The woman’s eyes darted about, searching the dark crouched all ‘round ‘em for danger. “The—that man, he—he—” She touched her head, winced.

“Ah killed ‘im,” Sadie said gruffly, without an ounce of shame for it. Good riddance. The woman looked startled for a moment at the news, then slumped backwards onto the saddlebags like she were awful relieved. She closed her eyes for a coupla breaths, then noticed the worn leather coat that’d been draped over her, now crumpled on the ground at her side, and gave Sadie a long, measuring look.

“You saved me, then?” she asked quietly, unsure.

Sadie shrugged. “...Ah s’pose.” She found her smoldering cigarette where she’d dropped it on the ground and inhaled harshly on the little that remained, breathing out a few weak ribbons of smoke. “Whut’s yer name?”

“Mary,” said the woman. “Mary Linton.” She blinked dazedly, looking tired and worn and more’n a little lost, then seemed to come back to herself, as though finally remembering her manners. “And you?”

Sadie felt suddenly uncomfortable. It’d been a long time since she last had such… pleasant conversation, iffin’ you could call it that. For a second, she thought ‘bout lying and giving a fake name, since she was a wanted woman and all—though only for a meager sum and only in a few states—but something ‘bout the idea made her bristle. Mary didn’t need no one lying to her, not now, not after everything she’d been through. 

“Ah’m Sadie Adler.”

Mary sniffled prettily then, eyes watering up as everything seemed to sink in at once, leaving her right overwhelmed. Hair and clothes a mess, face bruised up but at least not so dirty as before, she swallowed thickly and said, polite as could be, “How d’you do, Miss Adler?”, like—like they was drinking tea or some silliness. “ _Missus_ Adler,” she corrected a second later, eyes darting to the wedding ring visible on Sadie’s bare left hand.

Sadie found her gloves, put ‘em back on. She almost wanted to laugh at the sheer outrageousness of it all, but took pity on the other woman instead, and said, “Jus’ fine, Miss Linton. Now lissen. Ah know yer scared n’ hurt n’ tired, but lemme tell ya—ain’t no one gon’ do nuthin’ t’ you, leas' not tonight, not while Ah’m around.”

“I’m… I’m awful grateful, Missus Adler,” said Mary, practically quivering with relief, all big eyes and soft, drawling accent, so unlike Sadie’s harsh, cutting rasp, rough as gravel.

Sadie looked away, just then becoming very aware of the stark differences ‘tween the two of ‘em. While Mary may be out of sorts at the moment, this here was a proper lady, raised right with dignity and good standing, and oughter be treated like one. As for Sadie, well… It’d been awhile since her last bath, clothes gone stiff with dirt and sweat, smelling none too good. Nevermind that her face was scarred up and mean-looking, fresh bruised up from the other night’s half-drunken fistfight and the rest of her no better, not to mention at least a score or two of men dead on her account. The less time this poor Mary Linton spent in Sadie’s gruff company, the better.

Way Sadie saw it, they should head right on back to Valentine first thing tomorrow morning, find a Sheriff or a lawman to help ‘em sort things out. Get the poor woman here back home or to the closest family she had, where she’d be proper taken care of. But where was home for her, exactly, and how’d she end up grabbed in the first place, and—?

Sadie paused, swallowing back her questions at the sight of the woman slumped by the fire—she looked a second from swooning, plumb exhausted, rattled deep by her ordeal. Sadie could wait ‘til morning to find out more. Some good rest couldn’t. 

Picking her words with care, Sadie said, “We’ll get erry’thang figgered out in th’ mornin’. Fer now, whud’ya say t’ gettin’ some rest, Miss Linton?”

Mary’s eyelashes fluttered at the very word. She sank even further back into the saddlebags, which couldn’t be terribly comfortable but were a helluva lot better’n the cold hard ground. “I’d say that sounds lovely,” she breathed out, gathering Sadie’s jacket up to her chin and shivering pitifully. 

Sadie nodded in agreement and tried for a comforting half-smile, though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d done anything but sneer or frown or snarl. Thankfully, Mary didn’t seem to mind her sorry attempt, smiling back weakly ‘fore closing her eyes and tucking her nose under the collar of Sadie’s borrowed jacket. She was asleep in seconds.

Sadie watched her for a bit, just to make sure she was sleeping okay. Part of her was worried Mary might thrash herself awake in a frenzied haze after only a few minutes, but the other women slept deeply, at some sort of thankful peace, her breath coming slow and even and calm, shoulders slumped and head tilted to the side. 

Satisfied, Sadie stayed up a while longer, smoking and gazing out into the black wilderness surrounding ‘em, wondering how long it’d been since she last had such fine yet strangely pleasant company at her fire with her.

—

Morning came cold and brisk, as it always did in West Elizabeth this time of year. Breath steaming, Sadie had splashed herself awake washing her face in the nearby stream, then threaded her frayed, flaxen hair into a rough braid, doused the fire, brushed and resaddled Hera, and drank half her coffee in her battered tin cup by the time Mary started to stir, the other woman groaning softly as she sat up, working a visibly sore arm in slow, tentative circles. Sadie, who’d fallen off many a horse in her time, certainly knew the feeling.

“Mornin’,” Sadie said loudly behind her. Mary’d taken a good knock on her head yesterday, the knot on her temple gone a dark, livid purple. Prob’ly, she wouldn’t recall much ‘bout her recent ordeal too well, least not right away, and Sadie didn’t want to frighten the poor thing half to death.

Sure ‘nough, Mary jumped ‘bout a foot, almost like a startled jackrabbit in the brush, and twisted ‘round to stare at Sadie in a long, terrorstricken moment of befuddled confusion. Then her eyes went wide and she winced and touched her head, all that nonsense from yesterday coming back like a flood over parched earth.

“I—M-Missus Adler—good—good mornin’,” she stammered out, lowering her hand to her chest in belated shock.

It was a little amusing, her lady-like, proper, _oh-my-word_ fluster, but Sadie just nodded stiffly and finished off the dregs of her coffee, kicking dirt over the smoldering coals from this morning’s fire. 

“Hungry?” she asked. She didn’t have much to eat, but she’d forgone the last of some stale biscuits in wax paper for Mary, making do with just the coffee and a cigarette for herself. Hopefully the lady wouldn’t be _too_ offended by such a poor meal.

“Famished,” said Mary, and looked pathetically grateful when Sadie handed over the rest of her rations along with her canteen, topped off with teeth-achingly cold water from the stream. She ate slowly, watching Sadie with a mixture of caution and curiosity. Sadie, for her part, tried to seem like less of the brute she usually was. 

“I have to apologize for my manners last night, Missus Adler,” Mary said suddenly, wiping the crumbs from her mouth with her thumb. “I don’t believe I properly thanked you for what you did for me, the other day and even now. You saved my life, so I’d just like you to know I’m beyond thankful, and in your debt.” 

Sadie grunted dismissively, uncomfortable with the idea, then knelt ‘cross from the other woman as she resumed eating. She jerked her head eastwards, where smoke from the chimneys in Valentine was visible on the horizon, less’n half a day’s ride away. 

“Ah figger we should head on back t’wards town,” she said, tryna sound like she knew what was best and weren’t just guessing, “see if we cain’t find ourselves a sheriff or a lawman t’... Ah dunno, lend us a hand, Ah guess?”

Mary hesitated for a moment or two, chewing slowly at a biscuit and looking faintly grave, prob’ly thinking of all the no-good, crooked lawmen in these parts—men who’d rather take a few dollars under the table from thieves and robbers to look the other way than see a good woman off safe to her proper home—but also reluctant to disagree with Sadie, since she’d already shown her such graciousness, what with saving her and all.

“Alright,” said Mary quietly, and ate the rest of her meager breakfast in silence, a bit more subdued than before. Once she finished, she used the rest of the canteen to wipe her face clean, then put up her loose, dark hair in as neat a bun as she could manage.

Simply relieved she’d agreed, Sadie busied herself with fastening the saddlebags onto Hera, cleaned up the rest of the campsite, and fetched her hat. Her battered leather coat, she left for Mary, who shivered and, at Sadie’s prompting, put it on to fight back the retreating morning chill. It fit her alright, and with her mussed hair and dirt-streaked skirts, didn’t look _too_ strange on so fine a lady.

“C’mon then,” Sadie said shortly, once Mary seemed ready, and mounted Hera easily, giving her horse a friendly pound on the shoulder with her gloved hand. Hera whickered back in response, eager to get moving. 

“This here’s Hera,” she said to Mary. “He’s big, but he ain’t gon’ bitecha.”

Mary peered doubtfully up at the Mustang with those big doe eyes of hers, visibly nervous. Sadie kept a firm hand on the reins—her horse listened well and kept perfectly still, ‘course—and reached her other down for Mary, who paused only a moment more ‘fore taking it, letting Sadie haul her up to sit behind her, on the blanket draped over Hera’s rump. 

Sadie waited while Mary settled herself, halfway amused as she twisted about ‘til she was sitting in a prim side-saddle, ‘cause of her skirts, or maybe just ‘cause she was a proper lady and it were the only way she knew how to ride. Sadie’d always thought they was stupid, skirts and dresses and all, the dumb frilly things. She’d worn ‘em years ago, back when her husband Jakey was still around, though she’d always felt restricted in ‘em. The first time she put on a pair of trousers, she’d felt free. 

Mary, though… Mary made skirts and all that seem smart and lovely, despite the rips and tears and dirt on hers right then. Sitting behind Sadie with knees artfully crooked and skirts neatly arranged, she almost looked like a lady heading off to a ball or something silly like that. 

Sadie clicked her tongue and Hera took a big, jarring step forward. Mary yelped quietly and clung on tight, hands clenching ‘round Sadie’s waist, her breath puffing warm and quick ‘gainst the back of her neck. Sadie went stiff, feeling almost spooked by her nearness, then made herself relax. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had someone else on her horse with her. Even Hera seemed a bit perplexed by the extra weight, flicking his tail and snorting loudly.

“Easy,” said Sadie, more to herself than Mary or her horse, who responded to a nudge of her heels by falling into a slow walk, heading back toward the road. After a few minutes, Mary’s white-knuckle grip on Sadie’s ribs loosened, and soon enough she stopped resisting the rocking motion of Hera’s steady gait, which told Sadie the other woman had certainly ridden horses before, just not terribly often. Sadie’s own rhythmic movement was second nature by now.

“So tell me,” Sadie said, watching as a spooked grouse took flight nearby, uneasy with the silence she usually took such solace in on the open road. “Where y’ from, Miss Linton?”

“Call me Mary, please,” said Mary. “I’m from the state of Castleton, originally—east of New Hanover, ‘cross the river?—but I’ve been livin’ in Saint Denis ‘til recently.” She paused, then went on, “These past few months, though, I’ve been… trav’lin’.” 

“Oh?” said Sadie, wondering why Mary sounded a bit unsure of that. Something told her the other woman was lying, though that didn’t bother Sadie none. Mary must have her reasons. She weren’t the first woman tryna leave some sad, sorry past behind, and she certainly weren’t the last, neither. 

Sadie asked a few more questions, just for the sake of conversation, most of ‘em innocent and shallow and none too prying, but Mary quickly grew distant, sounding more and more worried and tense, so ‘fore long Sadie stopped. ‘Stead, she started pointing out different things along the way, like landmarks or animals n’ such, and talking on those, rattling off whatever she knew ‘bout ‘em offhand. Mary perked up at that, full of curiosity and wonder, asking questions of her own and soaking up Sadie’s words like the gospel. 

It was kinda nice, Sadie thought to herself, though her throat was already sore from disuse—having someone pleasant to talk to, after so long spent alone. Weren’t gonna last, she knew that, but still… For now, it was nice. 

It sure didn’t escape her that they made quite a pair, the two of ‘em—lost women both, two strangers who couldn’t be more different, ‘cept one owed the other her life, and she hers, only she didn’t quite know it yet, and in a different sort of way entirely.

—

First thing after getting back into town, sometime 'round noon, Sadie slowed Hera in front of the busy general store. She dismounted, helped Mary down, and told her to stay put. 

“Ah’ve got some bus’ness t’ take care of real quick,” she said. “Stay here ‘til Ah come back. Don’ you follow me, now, Ah mean it.”

“Alright,” said Mary, though she seemed suddenly anxious, face going pale and hands wringing, as if she thought maybe Sadie were 'bout to abandon her, now that they’d returned to civilization—or, near ‘nough, being Valentine and all.

Sadie sighed and put Hera’s reins into Mary’s hand. Her horse snorted but didn’t pull away. Mary stared at the straps of worn, supple leather, looking dumbfounded.

Sadie huffed. “Ah wouldn’ be leavin’ muh horse behind if Ah was plannin’ on runnin’ off, now, would Ah?”

“I… I suppose not,” said Mary, looking ashamed for her doubt and very much aware of how much trust Sadie was putting in her, a stranger, by giving her the reins to her horse, arguably her most valuable possession—her entire livelihood, even, ‘specially for a lone traveler like herself, moving from place to place as it suited her. 

Sadie just harrumphed and headed off down the street with her hat tipped low, utterly confident Hera was in good hands. A horse thief, Mary Linton sure weren't. She glanced behind her shoulder only once, just to make sure Mary weren’t following, but the other woman was peering up at Hera with some trepidation, as if not daring to move in case the big horse suddenly decided he wanted to pull away or bite.

They needed to get Mary sorted, yes, but to do that, Sadie had to take care of some rotten business first, so once she was sure Mary was staying put, she doubled back in an alley and found the black market Fence 'round the back of the Doctor’s shop. She’d been there before, knew the drill; she knocked twice on the door and glared at the man who opened the metal slot with a clang.

“Whatchu want?” he grunted.

Sadie kept it short. “Ah got sumthin’ Ah need t’ get off muh hands.” 

The man grunted, clanged the slot shut. The door opened and Sadie stepped in, keeping her hands free and holsters clear, just in case.

The man brought her to a counter and they got down to business. She’d already sold off whatever valuables she’d gleaned over the past few weeks from run-ins with fellow outlaws and brigands during her visit to town yesterday—silver belt buckles, brass cufflinks, stolen necklaces. What little she’d gotten for ‘em, she’d already spent on ammunition and gun oil and feed for Hera. Today, all she had to sell was the green brooch the dead feller’d tossed at her, and after some haggling, she walked away with fifteen dollars, which weren’t much, but better’n nothing at all. 

Pocketing the money, she returned to the general store. Mary was right where she’d left her, patting Hera cautiously on his big, muscled neck—and Sadie’s brute of a horse, he was letting her, which was surprising, since the beast usually never tolerated anyone laying a hand on him, other’n Sadie, that is.

“Oh,” said Mary, blushing and pulling her hand back when she noticed Sadie watching her pet her horse like he was some damn show pony. Sadie didn’t say nothing, just took the reins from her and tied Hera up proper to the hitching pole. 

“Hungry?” she asked, and Mary nodded and followed her meekly up the porch steps and into the store. Sadie figured Mary might need something a bit more substantial than just the hard biscuits she’d had earlier that morning, and stacked a few cans of vegetables and some oatcakes in a tin onto the counter and paid the shopkeep. 

Back outside, Mary, realizing the food was for her, tried to refuse the meager offering, but Sadie insisted, opening a can with her belt knife and thrusting it into Mary’s hands. 

She smoked while Mary ate awkwardly with Sadie’s fetched spoon, though after the first bite her hunger seemed to hit and she wolfed the rest of the can down ‘fore starting on the oatcakes. Sadie ignored her own grumbling stomach—it was far past lunchtime by now, and she’d eaten nothing today but coffee and tobacco—resigned to glaring at any curious passerby who stared a bit too long or tried for conversation with two ladies without escorts. 

Mary didn’t seem to notice the attention, looking piqued and wan and damn nervous besides, watching the bustling street all skittery-like, the bruise on her temple worse than ever, but the food seemed to help, and after she’d eaten, she was a bit more steady and sure of herself, though not the way Sadie hoped. Gone were the nerves, and in its place now stood visible dread. Standing there on the porch with her, mouth grim and eyes hollow, Mary looked almost like an outlaw herself, bound for the gallows.

"Done?” Sadie asked, and when Mary nodded, said, “Les' go, then,” and together, they headed off down the street.

—

The Valentine Sheriff wasn’t in. Something ‘bout a shoot-out on a homestead some miles out, and all the lawmen in the area on the search for some sorry feller wanted dead or alive. Sadie took one look at the no doubt just-deputized, green-gilled _boy_ they’d left in charge—left _behind_ , more like—and decided she wouldn’t trust him to watch her horse, let alone a woman in dire straits.

“The, uh, the feller who done it,” the boy behind the desk asked for just 'bout the fifteenth time, tryna get their statements straight, though in Sadie’s opinion a goddamn child could follow it, “he, uh… He’s dead, I s’pose?”

“Yep,” said Sadie, not proud ‘bout it but not sorry, neither. Beside her, tight-lipped and pale, Mary stood with her hands clenched together over her stomach, like just the thought of that no-good feller made her want to faint, even if he were dead now and rightly so.

“And you, uh,” said the boy, flicking his eyes nervously from Sadie to Mary and back again, “you saved her, then, did you, ma’am?”

“She did,” Mary said quietly, ‘fore Sadie could say something nasty, like _Whutchu thank, boy?_

“And so now you want to—to get her home, wherever that is, am I right?” said the boy.

“No, Ah wan’ t’ send 'er t’ Tahiti— _of course, ya moron_ ,” Sadie snapped, temper flaring.

The boy shrank back, then ventured, “I—I don’t s’pose she could jus’... jus’ buy herself a train ticket n’ get herself home that way, could she?”

“Gee, why didn’ _Ah_ thank a’ that?” Sadie snarled back. It’d been the very first thing she’d considered, earlier that morning. “Say, y’got any money, Miss Linton?” she asked Mary, her naturally raspy accent gone thick and heavy with sarcasm. As expected, the other woman went red and shook her head.

"Oh.” The boy’s shoulders slumped, as if disappointed it weren’t that easy. “Well... They don’t give us much of a stipend here for things like that, ma’am, but if you go to the post office, maybe, you can send a letter off to her relatives, and have ‘em mail you some money for a ticket, or—”

“N’ whut th' hell she gon’ do while she’s waitin’ fer who knows how long _that’ll_ take?” Sadie growled. “Ask fer a room down th' street n’ hope they give ‘er one outta th' goodness a’ their hearts?”

“Well—well, no, but—”

Disgusted, Sadie whirled and stomped out of the small building, slamming the door soon as Mary, following timidly behind, was through. It swung so hard the windows rattled, but Sadie didn’t feel no better for it. She was fiercely annoyed, and stalked down the street a-ways to try and cool off.

“Good fer nuthin’,” she muttered to herself, though Mary heard anyways and looked down, contrite.

“I’m sorr—”

“Not _you!_ ” Sadie snapped, snatching her hat off her head and gesturing with it. “Th' damn kid.”

Mary was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure he was doin’ his best,” she said finally.

Sadie smacked her hat 'gainst her leg. “His best ain’t worth shit if it leaves ya hangin’ t’ th' breeze!”

They walked in silence again for a spell. A couple fellers on the street turned and walked the other way when they saw the dark look brewing on Sadie’s face. Good thing, too, ‘cause she was itching for a fight, nevermind her still sore hands or lingering black eye.

“Sorry to trouble you,” Mary near whispered beside her, as though she were ashamed of being alone and destitute out here in the middle of nowhere. Like it was her own fault she’d been nabbed, robbed, beaten, and ridden on the back of a horse like a sack of oats halfway 'cross the goddamn state, and now had no means of getting home.

Sadie stuffed her hat back on her head and said gruffly, “Ain’t no trouble.” It was only half a lie. Sadie weren’t angry with her, just frustrated and uneasy. When it came down to it, they was strangers, her and Miss Linton, and Sadie, she still wasn’t sure what’d compelled her yesterday in saving the younger woman, other’n not being able to live with herself if she didn’t. 

But see, that was the thing—Sadie’d _already_ saved Mary, hadn’t she? She’d killed the feller who’d nabbed her and brought the poor girl to town. That should’ve been the end of it.

What she was doing now—tryna get the woman some help, refusing to leave her in the only somewhat capable hands of the Valentine lawmen—was going beyond the necessary. Any other feller’d have left poor Mary Linton alone and penniless on the streets of Valentine and been on their way without so much as a hitch in their conscience, after all’d been said and done. 

And Sadie, well—for some reason, she just couldn’t do it. The very idea gave her a dark, panicky, sick sort of feel, which was surprising, even to her, as she’d thought all the mercy and kindness left in her'd been bled out over the past few years. How else had she done the things she'd done and survived? 

Back when she’d first lost her husband Jakey, Sadie—she’d been less than human, far less, bent on nothing more than bloody revenge, a creature made up of rage and hate and spite and death. Nothing else had mattered but ridding the world of them goddamned O’Driscolls, them thieving gang of murderers who’d come into her house, stolen her things, destroyed her life, killed her husband, and nearly killed her, too. They’d burned everything to the ground and left her for dead. 

But Sadie, she’d survived, and without anyone to talk her down, she’d risen from those scattered ashes of her once happy life intent on just one thing—vengeance. The bloodier the better. 

She’d tracked ‘em down, every member of that horrid O’Driscoll gang, and killed and killed and killed. Nearly died herself a few times there—shot and beat up again and again in wild gun fights or tooth-n’-nail brawls, barely getting by on rotten scraps for food and no sleep for days and days, not caring ‘bout nothing or no one else but that next dead man she could put in the ground. 

Days, weeks, months—she hadn’t stopped ‘til she’d killed every last one of them goddamn bastards. In the end, she hadn’t felt satisfied, knowing they was all dead and gone by her own hand. Nor relieved, or vindicated, or happy.

And ever since, once the white-hot ashes of her searing anger went cold and gray, and all the O’Driscolls were gone, she’d sort of just… existed. Floated from place to place like a lonely specter looking for a purpose. She'd become an outlaw. Done things she weren't proud of. Joined up with a small-time gang for a spell, then left 'em when it suited her. Nowadays she ran alone, wandering 'cross the states at random, looking for a reason to keep going.

(Sometimes, she wondered how she was still alive, after all that. 

Sometimes, she wondered _why_.)

In the end, it didn’t matter how low and wicked Sadie’d become to do what she had. She was a lost cause. Nothing could help her now. 

But this here, this poor woman, Mary… This was someone Sadie _could_ help, maybe even damn well save, iffin' she only tried. She was someone who could matter. Someone who wouldn’t turn out to be another her. 

Just another goddamn ghost.

—

They fetched Hera, who seemed to pick up on Sadie’s foul mood, snorting loud and rude when Sadie untied him, jerking 'gainst her hold. She gave him a yank right back to show him who was boss, then led the horse and Mary across the street.

“Lissen here, Mary,” said Sadie, firm in her sudden, stubborn resolve, “Ah’m gunna do erry’thang Ah can t’ get y’home, unnerstand?”

But rather’n nod along, Mary was shaking her head, looking grim but equally determined. “I can’t let you do that, Missus Adler. You’ve done enough already, and more. I’m afraid I’m dreadful imposin’ on your hospitality now. I’m sure you have much more important things to be tendin’ to, and you should really be on your way. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused—”

“ _Ah said y'ain’t troublin’ me!_ ” Sadie shouted, fed up, then felt horrible when Mary flinched at her raised voice. “Sorry, Ah—” An awful feeling churned in her gut at the frightened look on Mary’s face. “Sorry,” she said again, gentler this time, and the tightness in Mary’s mouth softened. The other woman bit her trembling lip and then nodded.

“Look, Ah…” Sadie started. “Ah’m not jus’ gunna leave y’here. Y’ain’t got no money, no one else t’ look out fer ya… Ah couldn’ live with mahself if Ah walked 'way now. So jus’... jus’ lemme help, alrigh'?”

Mary blinked hard, like she were fighting back sudden tears, then nodded again, her shoulders trembling faintly, as if with relief. Sadie, she could _feel_ the gratitude coming off of her, like the rosy-red warmth of bright glowing coals, well-tended.

“Thank you, Missus Adler,” Mary whispered, then seemed to notice they’d come to a stop in front of Valentine’s sole inn—a reputable enough establishment, from what Sadie’d heard. Rather’n ask what they was doing there, Mary just looked to Sadie curiously.

“Here,” said Sadie, and dug in her pocket for a loose fistful of crumpled bills—the same money the feller from yesterday'd thrown at her on the road, tryna bribe her silence, plus some of her own. She handed it gruffly to Mary ‘fore she could protest and tried to sound like she knew what she was doing, rather’n making it up as she went along. “Now y'take that money, n’ y'go on inside n’ get yerself a room fer tonight. Ah won’ be havin’ y'sleep in th dirt n’ cold 'gain.”

Mary swallowed, looking nervous. “...Will—will you be stayin’ as well?” she asked hopefully.

While Sadie could afford one room for Mary, taking another for herself would just be a waste of what little money she had left, especially if she might have to pay for a costly train ticket tomorrow. She shook her head. “Ah’ll be back fer ya, first thang t'morrow mornin’.”

“...Oh,” said Mary, sounding mighty disappointed ‘bout that for some reason.

Sadie went on. “Now, there’s 'nough there fer a bath, a good meal, n’ a nice warm bed, jes’ righ' fer a proper lady like yerself.” 

Mary smiled at her sadly. “And what about you, Missus Adler?”

Sadie grinned ferociously and tipped her hat back. “Oh, Ah ain’t proper, Miss Linton. Thought mebbe you’da figured that out by now.” 

Rather’n laugh, Mary’s face fell suddenly. For a second, Sadie was afraid she might cry.

“Look,” she said firmly, taking Mary by the elbow and letting her go just as quick, worried she might scare her again, “Ah ain’t goin’ nowhere. Honest. Jus’ gon' head a-ways outta town, set mahself up fer th' night. T'morrow, we kin talk ‘bout a train, ‘n gettin’ y'home, alrigh'?” She kept her voice low and calm, trying for reassuring, but Mary seemed as nervous and frightened as ever. Christ. Did she not trust Sadie at all? 

Glancing up and down the street, Sadie stepped closer and unholstered one of her revolvers. She held it by the barrel and put the handle in Mary’s limp grasp. Surprisingly, the other woman took it without protest.

“What—?” said Mary.

“So you’ll know Ah’ll be back.” It weren’t exactly a horse, this time, but it was something dear of Sadie’s, and if leaving it with Mary made the other woman believe her word, so be it.

Speechless, Mary stood there, looking lost, holding the gun loosely at her side, though she didn’t seem too frightened of it. Rather, she seemed perfectly aware of how to hold it, keeping the barrel pointed away from her toes, finger off the trigger. If Sadie had to guess, proper Miss Linton had definitely held a gun before. Interesting.

“Like Ah said, Ah’ll see y' in th' mornin’,” said Sadie. “So y'keep mah gun safe, cuz Ah’ll be back fer it. Have yerself a good night, Mary. Ah’ll be headin’ out now.” 

She paused a moment, waiting to see if Mary would speak up, since it seemed sure clear she had something to say, but when the other woman kept silent, expression trapped ‘tween defiant and stricken, Sadie was forced to tip her hat farewell and step from the porch, feeling strange with her belt having one empty holster, almost like she was missing a boot. 

Just 'fore Sadie could get her foot into Hera’s stirrup, Mary blurted, “Wait,” then seemed surprised when Sadie actually stopped. Resting a hand on Hera’s smooth leather saddle, Sadie put her foot back down as the other woman seemed to argue with herself ‘bout something or other, then stepped off the porch to join Sadie in the street.

“To be perfectly frank, Missus Adler,” said Mary breathlessly, her words coming out in a rushed but earnest tumble, “I think I’d feel safer stayin’ with you than in there, or anywhere else in town. And that’s what I’d like to do. If—if that’s alright with you, that is.”

Sadie blinked, taken aback. Mary was giving up a soft bed and a warm meal for another cold night under the stars, and for what? Another chance at Sadie’s charming company? Damn woman must’ve hit her head harder’n Sadie’d thought.

“Y'sure?” she said, just to make certain. It’d save ‘em some money, camping out ‘stead of staying in town, but she wanted Mary taken care of, not miserable out there in the wilderness with a no-good, poorly-mannered outlaw at her side. Every moment Mary spent with her meant nothing but trouble. 

“Yes,” said Mary. For the first time since Sadie had saved her, she looked and sounded entirely sure of herself. With a steady hand, she handed Sadie’s gun back. Sadie holstered it.

“Fine,” Sadie said with a sigh, mounting Hera and reaching a hand down for Mary. “But first, y’gotta do sumthin’ fer me.”

“Oh, anythin’,” said Mary, taking her hand.

“Call me Sadie.”

—

They found a spot out near Citadel Rock, where a small stand of scraggly trees and a jutting stone outcrop kept away the worst of the wind. Mary seemed at home now in Sadie’s worn, warm coat, so when she politely tried to return it to its proper owner, Sadie brushed her off. She weren’t cold, anyways.

As the sun bled red and sank down below the horizon, Sadie set up camp, going through her usual ritual of building a fire, brushing Hera down, and fetching water for drinking. After, she found her frying pan to sear a can of beans over the coals, cutting in bits of meat from town to go with it. Soon enough the camp was busy with the smell and sound of the cooking food and the crackling of the fire. 

When the food was done, Sadie scooped half into her battered tin cup and gave it to Mary with a dented fork missing one tine, eating her own share straight from the hissing pan with her only spoon. It weren’t the best—sure not some fancy meal from that inn back in town—but it was hot and it was something, at least. 

After, Sadie washed the pan in the stream nearby and stoked the fire well ‘fore laying out her bedroll and making sure Hera was set up with his oats alright, then smoked a cigarette for a spell or two, letting the day wind down on its own and feeling the familiar tight ache of her tired limbs begin to loosen and throb.

Throughout it all—the setting up, the cooking and eating, the relaxed calm of the aftermath—Mary kept still and silent, not even looking at her food, just sitting and staring at the fire with wide, glassy eyes and a thinned mouth, like she were awful dreading whatever might come next.

Sadie, she let her be. She could tell something dark was brewing in the other woman, bubbling close to the surface. She looked scared, sitting there 'gainst the saddlebags with her legs folded neatly under her, bottom lip caught beneath her teeth and shoulders hunched with tension, the steaming tin cup of beans and pork clenched tight in her reddened hands. She looked like she wanted desperately to say something but didn’t dare. At least, not yet. Sadie’s guts soured as she remembered the spooked look on her face earlier, the way she’d seemed to shrink in on herself when they’d talked ‘bout getting her a train back home, her animal-like panic at the very idea, but instead of demanding Mary just spit it out already, Sadie forced herself to wait, patient as she could, for the other woman to speak. 

Didn’t take long, thankfully—Sadie was sitting near the fire on a fallen log, cleaning her Cattleman revolvers with her usual care, working the gun oil into all the catches, making sure to save some for her Carbine Repeater afterwards, ‘specially at that rusty spot right near the stock, and—

“Sadie,” Mary said suddenly. 

Sadie almost jumped a foot she was so wound up from mounting anticipation, glad then she’d unloaded her pistols a few minutes ago. Might’ve shot her damn finger off, just now. She sat up, rubbed the oil in with her rag more furious than ever. Grunted, “Yeah?” 

Mary took a breath that rattled shaky and scared in her throat, then said in a voice that was tryna sound firm but just came out hollow and pleading, “A-about tomorrow. I’ve decided. You—you don’t need to worry yourself about me any longer.”

It was Sadie’s turn to stare now. She stopped what she was doing and tipped the brim of her hat up with her forefinger, fixing Mary with a lip-curling scowl. Mary quailed but pressed on.

“Like I said before, I’ve taken up enough of your time. In the mornin’, I—I insist you leave me in town and be on your way. I can take care of myself just fine, you see.”

The fire cracked and popped noisily in the silence that followed. Mary’s eyes were cast down, fixed on the flames, her face pinched and weary, almost sickly-looking. Sadie watched her close, thinking _that_ over. _She insists?_ she mused to herself, then snorted. Mary could _insist_ all she damn well liked, far as Sadie was concerned. Didn’t mean it’d go the way she wanted, though.

After a long moment, Sadie shook her head and went back to oiling her gun. “Tha’s alrigh'. Ah’ll get y’home, Mary,” she said sternly. “Ah’m sure you’ve got folk worried ‘bout ya. Ain’t safe, leavin’ you on yer own. Don’t y' worry none ‘bout it, now.” 

‘Stead of looking pleased, Mary seemed even more at a loss than before. She put her tin cup down—food already going cold and claggy—and balled her fists up in her lap as if aching for a fight.

“The—the thing is, Sadie,” she began weakly, “I— I—” She stopped and took a sharp breath, blinking hard, tryna compose herself as her eyes suddenly filled with tears. It weren’t much use—the tears broke free, skidding down her cheeks to drip off her chin. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner. I—I don’t know why I didn’t.” Gulping back a quiet sob, Mary gritted out, “Truth is, there—there ain’t much of a home for me to go back to. Not anymore.”

Through the thick sniffling and muffled weeping that followed, Sadie put her guns and oil away and faced the other woman 'cross the fire, hands laced loosely in front of her though she wanted to wring ‘em, heart starting to race with something like alarm, or maybe just regret. What’d she gone and gotten herself into now? Served her right, tryna pretend she were anything more'n a lost soul, unworthy of absolution.

“Whut y’mean?” she asked, not too kindly but not too harsh, neither.

Mary sniffled again and wiped her wet face on the worn sleeve of her borrowed jacket, her tears leaving dark streaks on the old leather. “My daddy,” she began, so softly Sadie could barely hear her, “he—he was a gamblin’ man.”

Sadie grunted, sat back. Something told her Mary meant far more than just a feller playing a hand or two for fun. Sadie, she weren’t no stranger to a game of poker now and then, herself. But she’d never felt the gnawing hunger some did when they won a decent pot of coins or a thick stack of bills. The all-encompassing need for more, how it took you over, turned you into someone else, someone who didn’t care ‘bout nothing or no one but winning more. 

“When I was little,” Mary said wistfully, voice growing a bit stronger as she went, “we lived in a big house by the city. My daddy, he was a businessman. A good one. We didn’t want for nothin’, my family. But—but then he started with the gamblin’. It was just a little here and there at first. But then it was more. He and mother, oh, the fights they had... He broke her heart, gamblin’ his money away like he did. To her, it was like he was takin’ the food right off our table and out of our mouths. But nothin’ she did could stop him. Then she got sick. I was sixteen when she died.”

Sadie didn’t say nothing, just listened. She’d heard many a sad, tragic story like this before, and she already had an inkling to how it ended.

Mary sniffled, and now she seemed angry, a snarl building up in the back of her throat. “But that didn’t stop daddy, oh no. Over the years, he’d gambled away all his fortune, his businesses and his horses, his house, and all his belongings. He gambled away every single thing he could, ‘til all he had left was his only daughter.”

It struck Sadie, then, what exactly Mary might be saying. She blurted in outraged disbelief, “Yer daddy gambled _you_ off, too?”

Mary’s lips went thin and white with how hard she pressed ‘em together. It was all the answer Sadie needed.

“He—well, he tried, but I ran off ‘fore he could,” said Mary quickly, like she was tryna head off Sadie’s temper, for all the good that did. Just the idea of a man thinking he could do such a thing set her fuming. 

Sadie weren’t sure what to say at first. Prob’ly, she shouldn’t say nothing at all. ‘Stead, she spat to the side in disgust, growling, “Y’ wan’ me t’ find yer daddy n’ shoot ‘im?”

A short, bitter bark of laughter left Mary’s throat. It was better’n a sob, but not by much. “I think any other day I’d take you up on that, but it’s too late. He’s been dead for years now.” Mary didn’t sound too sorry ‘bout that. Sadie sure couldn’t blame her.

Fishing a loose cigarette from her pocket, Sadie lit it with a match snapped 'gainst her boot. She inhaled slow. “Whut happened then? After y’ran off?”

Mary’s face, held in a stony sort of calm ‘til now, seemed to break and crumple inwards. She hiccupped a miserable little sob, turning towards the crackling fire, the pulsing red glow alighting on the sad, tired creases at her eyes and mouth. “Nothin’ good,” she whispered.

“Y’ain’t gotta tell me,” Sadie said quickly, worried she’d pried, or made Mary feel obliged to reveal all her secrets. Weren’t her business, really, how exactly Mary Linton had gotten herself here, just that she had, and was in sore need of some help. 

But Mary shook her head, seeming to compose herself. “No, Sadie, it’s—it’s alright.” She cleared her throat delicately, wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye with a finger. “I ran off from my daddy, but not alone. Me and a feller, we was sweet on each other, back then.” 

Sadie flicked ash from her cigarette thoughtfully. “Guessin’ he weren’ somebuddy t’ bring home t’ daddy?” 

Mary smiled sadly. “No. Arthur, he—he was a true free spirit. An outlaw, if I’m bein’ honest. Ran with a gang, called themselves the Van Der Linds. They robbed coaches, trains, stations. Banks, even. I stayed on with them for some years, but through it all, there wasn’t a time I didn’t feel scared of what might come next. It eats at you, fear like that. I was always terrified Arthur would go out on a job and not come back.”

Sadie’d heard of the Van Der Linds, seen articles ‘bout ‘em in the paper, way back when. She knew how they’d ended up. It was just like Mary’d said—nothing good.

“Y’didn’ leave?” she asked, surprised Mary hadn’t done the smart thing and gotten out when she could, ‘fore the end.

“I couldn’t leave Arthur,” Mary said wistfully, and Sadie could hear the love in her voice, still strong to that day. “He did some awful things, but I know in his heart, he was good. Oh Sadie, he was so good. One of the best. But that gang—that gang killed him. They weren’t the ones who shot him, but they might as well have. They went for one last job. Arthur was always saying that… ‘Just one more, just one more, Mary, I swear.’ But this time, they didn’t come back.”

Sadie was quiet. It was sad, really, that such a good-hearted man hadn’t been able to walk away in the end.

Mary sniffled faintly. “The rest of us, the ones left behind, we didn’t know what to do. Everyone just up and scattered, and I was alone. I was so scared. Then I saw, a few days later, in the paper… Arthur and the rest, they’d been ambushed by the law. Arthur was dead, shot up along with half his gang. The other half were set to hang for all the robbin’ and stealin’ they’d done. It was just—awful. Awful. It broke my heart.” 

She lowered her head and wept again for a bit. Sadie let her, smoking quietly, not daring to say a word.

Eventually, Mary gathered herself. “It was hard for a long time,” she said, voice raspy from crying. “But I got by, somehow. The law tried to come after me, sayin’ I was an accomplice and all that, but me and Arthur, we’d never married, and they couldn’t prove anythin', so… After, I told myself I’d never love again, that I was done with all that silliness.”

Sadie eyed Mary’s bare fingers, clenched in her lap, sensing her earlier suspicions had been correct. “But y’did. Marry, that is.”

She weren’t surprised when Mary nodded, the heavy lines of sadness returning to her weary face. “I did. His name was Barry. Barry Linton. I met him some years later. He was sweet on me, and he was kind. It was hard for me, after everythin’, but… I was happy, bein’ with him. He took good care of me.” Mary’s mouth, softened by fond memories into a lovely smile, hardened again. “But then he got sick. He died, too, a couple years back. Pneumonia.”

“Jesus.” Sadie flinched. “Bad business, that.”

Mary _hmmed_ in agreement, a dark, hollow pain lurking in her eyes. She’d seen so much grief, Sadie realized. Nearly as much as her, not that it were a competition or some such foolishness.

Sadie smoked the rest of her cigarette and ventured, “...Ain’t y'got no one else?”

Mary sighed, shook her head. “I don’t have any other close relatives, or, none that’ll take me.” She paused. “I had a little brother. But he… he lost his way. I went lookin’ for him a while back. He’d joined up with some people, called themselves the Chelonians. A religious group.” Her voice grew twisted and sharp with bitterness. “A cult, more like. I tried so many times to convince him to leave, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Maybe if someone like Arthur had been around to try and talk him out of it, he…” She cut off and looked away. “I haven’t seen him since.”

Silence hung, thick as velvet curtains. Around them, the world had gone dark, stars winking brightly high above. Sadie felt like there was a rock sitting in her gut, for all the misery and pain this poor woman had gone through in her relatively short life. Like Sadie, she weren’t no stranger to death or suffering, only, ‘stead of turning to a murderous rage for comfort like Sadie’d done to deal with her sorrow, Mary’d tried her best to keep her head up and her heart pure in a world that seemed intent on beating her down.

“So you see, Sadie,” Mary finished quietly, voice starting to wobble again, “I know you want to get me home safe and sound, but there ain’t nowhere for me to go. When that awful man snatched me the other day, all I had to my name was five dollars and the clothes on my back—and my mother’s heirloom brooch. It was a beautiful thing—green, like an emerald. I’d managed to hide it from my daddy before I ran away with Arthur. And you know, after everything, that brooch is what I feel the worst about losing right now. It was the last thing I had that was truly mine.”

A crushing guilt seized Sadie’s guts. An emerald green brooch—the same one that no-good feller’d tossed on the ground at her, begging her to leave ‘im alone. She’d sold the damned thing just that morning. Shit.

Mary didn’t seem to notice her sudden stiffness, looking tired and spent from the telling of her sorry story, wanting for nothing but a good night’s sleep. 

“Well,” said Sadie carefully, knowing Mary surely expected her to up and abandon her now after all these revelations. “We’ll figger sumthin’ out in th' mornin’. Fer now, it’s gettin’ late. Les' get some sleep.”

'Stead of arguing, Mary just nodded and put her neglected meal aside, settling herself further 'gainst Hera’s saddlebags and tucking Sadie’s old coat ‘round herself like a blanket, burying her nose in the musty collar to keep warm. Sadie banked the fire, made sure her horse was set up for the night, and dragged her bedroll a bit closer to the other woman, tryna keep her company the only way she knew how; solidarity. It seemed a pretty pathetic attempt, but Sadie weren’t sure what else to do.

She dozed off with her hat tilted over her face and boots crossed at the ankles, only to wake what felt like a few minutes later. She sat up on her elbows, wondering what’d woken her. 

Nearby, Mary was huddled up, knees to her chin, shivering like mad. Which, of course she was, cold clear night like tonight with that breeze coming off the Ambarinos. Mary really oughter stayed in that nice, comfy inn in town, where she would’ve had herself a soft bed and plenty of blankets. All Sadie had was her pitiful bedroll in the dirt and some old saddlebags for cushions. Christ, she was a terrible host.

“Y’cold?” Sadie grunted. Awake, Mary stiffened and looked guilty.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

“C’mere,” Sadie ordered, shifting over to make some room on her bedroll. It weren’t very thick or warm, but it was better’n laying right on the cold hard ground, that’s for sure.

“I—” Mary began.

"Keepin’ me up with all that teeth chatt’rin’,” Sadie grumbled. 

Mary’s guilty expression deepened. After a moment, she got up, put on her borrowed jacket, and joined Sadie on the bedroll. Sadie turned so Mary’s back was to her front, making sure the other woman was closer to the glowing fire. Mary closed her eyes at the soothing heat and wriggled closer to Sadie, who hesitated, then put her arm around her. 

It hit her then, while they laid there, side by side, listening to the hushed sounds of each other's breathing and rustle of night critters around 'em, how close they truly were. It’d been a long, long time since Sadie’d last laid down so closely with someone, even just like this, out of necessity, to keep warm. Seemed it’d been a while for Mary, too—she was stiff as a board 'gainst Sadie, like she didn’t dare even blink. Her hair tickled Sadie’s nose. It was soft and smelled like dust with some sort of floral undertone Sadie couldn’t place.

Eventually, Sadie dozed off again, and came awake to a soft whimpering some time later. Mary was crying again, real quiet-like, her body hitching now and then under Sadie’s arm. Sadie didn’t say nothing. Didn’t tell her to stop or go back to sleep, just swallowed hard and tightened that arm ‘round the other woman a bit more and held her close without a word. No one’d been there when she used to cry at night, and she’d be damned if she let Mary go through the loneliness and misery she had, alone.

It seemed to take forever, but at last, Mary’s weeping stopped, and the other woman fell tiredly asleep. Sadie wondered when was the last time she’d let _herself_ cry like that, and fell asleep without remembering the answer.

—

When dawn came, pink and yellow rays streaming off the eastern ridges, Sadie woke before Mary. Sometime during the night, Mary had turned over onto her back, and her face was now angled towards Sadie’s, breath coming slow and even, loose strands of dark hair falling ‘cross the knot of her bruise-mottled brow. It weren’t so dark or swollen as before—healing, looked like. 

She was a beautiful woman, Sadie thought to herself. Mary’s eyelashes were dark and long and lovely. Her expression just then seemed somewhat at peace, the lines of sorrow from the night before smoothed away, though the tip of her nose was bright pink from the early morning chill. She looked so serene and pure it made Sadie's heart ache.

Sadie watched her sleep for a spell, then carefully got up and went to look for firewood. When she got back, arms loaded with dead, fallen branches, Mary had curled up in her vacant warm spot, hands folded delicately by her neck, face buried under the collar of her borrowed coat. Sadie let her sleep and set to making breakfast.

Awhile later, she woke Mary, fed her, and rode ‘em back into town. Within sight of the still-sleepy houses and smoke-spewing chimneys, she stopped Hera beside the post office, with the train station right around back. Mary looked wary but also like she’d given up, as if she were fully expecting ‘em to part ways now.

Sadie told her, "Stay here," and instead of walking into the building, walked alone into the bustling morning downtown streets of Valentine.

At the backdoor to the black market Fence, she shoved a scruffy-looking feller aside to get in front of him, and when he tried to protest, she put a hand on her gun and gave him a nasty look. That shut ‘im up real quick. She knocked, and the slit in the door clanged open. The man inside recognized her from the other day, if the grimace were anything to go by. He let her in and escorted her over to the usual counter for business.

“Th' brooch,” Sadie said without preamble. “From yesterday. Ah wannit back.”

The man frowned. “I cain’t jus—”

Sadie slapped a billfold down on the counter, made up of her own money and the rest of the dead feller’s. “Here. Whut Ah sold it fer. Take it.”

But the man shook his head. “Don’t work like that, n’ ‘sides—”

“Ah’ll give ya twenny, then. No, thirty,” Sadie persisted, though it hurt. If she sold one of her guns, she might have enough, but damn if she weren’t a fool, just for considering it. 

“I cain’t take yer money,” the man said. Before Sadie could get herself real mad ‘bout that, he held up a placating hand and went on, “Y’see, I already sold that brooch to a fine feller jus’ this mornin’.”

Sadie bristled, at a loss, then grew determined anew. “Gimme 'is name. Now.”

The man seemed 'bout to deny her, then thought better of it, either because Sadie was a good repeat customer, or he was scared of her, or maybe just ‘cause he was a no-good black market dealer and didn’t care none 'bout it. “A trav’lin’ bus'nessman n’ money lender, Mister Ashton.”

Satisfied, Sadie snatched the bills from the counter and stalked away, growling out, “Thank y’kindly.”

Weren’t hard to find Mr. Ashton. Sadie just had to mention his name to a coupla folks, and was soon pointed to an oily-looking feller in a suit. She tailed him into a dirty back alley behind the general store—no doubt where Mr. Ashton was waiting to cheat some poor feller out of his hard-earned money with promises of under-the-counter loans and low interest.

“Mister Ashton?” she called out when she was sure he was alone.

He turned, surprised, as she approached, thumbs tucked casual-like in the wide belt of her holsters. “I’m afraid I don’t do business with riff-raff,” he said at once, nose upturned. “Sorry, lady.”

Sadie sighed. “Ah’m sorry, too, mister.” Then she hit him, right in the gut. 

Mr. Ashton made a sharp _whuff_ sound and dropped to his knees, wheezing something awful. Sadie rifled through his clothes while he groaned and found the brooch in the front pocket of his fine coat. For a moment, she was tempted to take everything else he had, too—his wallet, cufflinks, belt buckle, maybe even his shoes—but no, this was enough.

She tipped her hat at him. “Pleasure doin’ bus’ness with ya, sir.”

“You… You…!” Mr. Ashton lurched at her furiously, but Sadie just sidestepped and he tripped and fell headlong into a nearby pigpen, sending the hogs squealing. The sight alone was enough to make Sadie grin.

Back at the station, Mary had tied Hera up proper to a hitch and taken a seat on a nearby bench. She looked pinched and nervous and sick from the waiting. When she saw Sadie, her face paled even further, like she were expecting the worst.

"Here,” Sadie snapped without fanfare, and tossed the brooch into Mary’s lap. Mary gasped, caught it by reflex, then blinked and seemed to realize just what it was she was holding. She gasped again, louder.

“Sadie! Is this…?”

Sadie busied herself with untying Hera. She’d never done good with gratitude and weren’t planning to start now. 

Mary clasped the brooch to her chest, eyes shining with tears. “Oh, Sadie, I…” Her voice went thick and wet with emotion, lips trembling. Sadie ignored her.

“Yer wrong, y’know,” she said quietly.

“Wrong?” said Mary, confused.

Sadie jerked her chin at the brooch. “Y’said y’ain’t got nothin’ t' yer name no more, but yer wrong. Y’got that now, at least.” Without another word, she thrust her boot into Hera’s stirrup and swung herself up. “C’mon, then,” she said.

Mary blinked wetly up at her in disbelief. “I… I thought, the train—?"

"Ain't puttin' you on the train."

"Then where—where are we goin’?”

“Ah dunno,” said Sadie honestly. “But we’re goin’, so hurry up.”

Mary scrambled to her feet. She paused by Hera, as though still unable to grasp the fact that she weren’t being abandoned.

“Ah ain’t got all day,” Sadie said, holding out her hand. Cautiously, Mary reached up and took it. Sadie hauled her up with ease. Mary settled at once into her usual spot on the blanket behind Sadie’s saddle, hands clasped loosely ‘round Sadie’s lean waist. Sadie clucked her tongue and Hera turned and broke into a comfortable canter, heading out of Valentine and into the open fields beyond.

After a coupla miles, Sadie muttered, almost to herself, “We’ll need t’ getcha a horse, won’ we?”


	2. Chapter 2

It was odd, how quickly Sadie found herself settling into the new way of things. It’d been years since she’d last had a... well, a _companion_ , she figured was the word for it, though that didn’t seem quite enough to describe Mary. _Friend_ , however, seemed just as strange, almost… intimate. In the end, to Sadie, she was just Mary, no bells and whistles attached—the rest, they could figure out later.

A week or so after leaving Valentine, they went to the stable up near Strawberry where Mary picked herself out a Tennessee Walker, a liver chestnut mare with a starburst on her nose. Compared to Hera, she was a small, placid thing, but sturdy and strong for her size. She’d be able to keep up with the other horse for the most part, which was what really mattered in the end. 

Mary loved her at first sight, and that mattered, too. It’d been an age since she last had her own horse, she said. She named the horse Francine, in memory of her mother, and set to spoiling her right from the get-go, brushing her deep brown coat ‘til she was gleaming like a seal in water and feeding her sugar cubes from her hand at every opportunity. 

Sadie hadn’t had the heart to tell Mary how they’d gotten the money for Francine—not that she’d killed anyone or nothing, though smuggling guns over the state line for a local gang weren’t much better, knowing what thievery and killing they’d be using ‘em for. Not only that, smuggling could get you strung up just as quick by the law as murder if you were unlucky enough to get caught red-handed. 

But Sadie hadn’t been caught, and the money had paid not only for Mary’s new horse but also a new saddle, brush, and supplies, so she didn’t regret it too much, and afterwards, they had enough to spare to head into the town proper and get Mary some new clothes, so she wouldn’t be stuck walking ‘round in a torn up blouse and skirt no more. 

At the tailor’s, Mary found herself a plain but pretty button-up blouse, turning down a pair of riding pants or chaps for a tough-woven demure skirt that went down to her ankles and allowed her to ride easily in her usual prim but surprisingly effective side-saddle—the skirts were long and giving enough to ride normal, too, iffin’ it were ever called for.

A pair of lady’s low-heeled boots, leather riding gloves, and a wide-brim hat with a simple ribbon finished the set, and when Mary rode out of town on her new horse, fresh dressed, face washed clean from a rainbarrel and hair neatly braided down her back, her mother’s dark green brooch fastened at the hollow of her throat, she looked a different woman entirely. Not some roughed-up outlaw like Sadie, but a proper lady out for a ride, entirely sure of herself and not looking to put up with any foolishness. 

“How do I look?” Mary asked her, when she noticed Sadie watching her. 

Sadie struggled for an answer, floundering, and came up with, “Jus’ fine,” ‘fore kicking Hera off in a huff, unsure why the question had bothered her so much. Been a long time since she’d felt something like that… _Flustered_ was the word for it. A foolish, flighty thing when it came down to it, though Sadie’d rather be embarrassed than alone again. Mary made fine company, and Sadie hadn’t even realized how much she’d been hurting for some.

Mary was too thankful ‘bout all the recent gifts to press Sadie ‘bout the less’n savory source of their sudden funds. For that, Sadie was grateful. She didn’t want to lie to the other woman, but ‘bout that, she certainly would. It was better and safer to keep it down to only one of ‘em getting hanged, and Mary, Sadie decided with conviction, would keep her hands clean even if it were the last thing she ever made sure of.

Two horses made for far easier travel, and they covered decent ground. At first, Mary seemed to think they was heading to a particular location, but after a coupla days of aimless wandering, she accepted that Sadie just roamed from place to place without much rhyme or reason, which weren’t exactly wrong. She didn’t complain none about it, neither, and actually seemed to enjoy the many new sights of the beautiful country she’d only found sorrow and cruelty in so far.

When funds got low—and they did, faster’n before, since there were two of ‘em now—Sadie took on what jobs she could find, keeping Mary out of ‘em to the best of her ability, leaving her behind at camp and forbidding her to follow until she returned. Really, there weren’t much work for an outlaw like herself, but even the dirtiest jobs—literally, this time, like hustling stolen cows through mudfields or transporting moonshine in hot, stinking swamps or hell, even just mucking stalls for horse breeders—was better’n nothing.

One night, after a long, irritating job near Emerald Ranch nearly went sour, the sheep Sadie was rustling for a black market dealer almost giving her the slip and lawmen dogs barking after her a few miles back, Sadie collected her pay and made it back to camp awful late, feeling tired, beat up, saddle-sore and hungry. Mary, she figured, was either asleep or huddled up in her new bedroll, trying not to wake Sadie for her usual nightly weeping, still caught up in grieving her old life and loved ones gone by. Sadie understood, and hoped one day the other woman could get by without crying and feeling so sorry for herself. 

But when she rode up to their camp and swung herself off Hera, Mary weren’t asleep, or crying and feeling sorry for herself at all. ‘Stead, she was up and about, eyes faintly red but now lit by a strange, renewed sort of focus. Sadie was surprised to see she’d found the unskinned hare Sadie’d shot just that morning, and had even dug up some wild carrots and garlic by the look of her dirt-caked fingernails, and cut ‘em all up and thrown ‘em in a pot to make a thick, rich-smelling rabbit stew. Sadie’s stomach growled ferociously at the first whiff.

Camp’d been cleaned up, too, looked like, debris and rocks kicked away from the fire, bedrolls placed neatly nearby. Sadie’s custom Carbine Repeater and Carcano Rifle were laid off to the side, pristinely oiled. Christ. Mary’d even set up a bag with strips of clean cloth and alcohol, bandages at the ready in case Sadie’d been hurt while she was away. Mary was set on proving herself valuable, it seemed, not that Sadie’d been searching for a reason to leave her behind or anything. Still, it was nice, seeing all the effort she’d made, and gave Sadie a warm, homey feeling, to have someone waiting on her to get back safe and sound.

“You must be starvin’,” Mary said, looking relieved she was here but not asking where she’d been or what trouble she’d been up to. Prob'ly, she knew, and Sadie were the fool, tryna hide it. Mary fetched ‘em two bowls from the saddlebags—small, dented things Mary’d gotten from a traveling cart a day or so back, simply by tending to one of the feller’s draft horses who’d picked up a limp. She’d found the rock lodged deep in the horseshoe sure enough and pried it out with Sadie’s borrowed knife, looking all the world like she was born knowing her way ‘round horses. When Sadie’d asked about it, she’d said only, “Arthur taught me.”

Sadie sat herself down by the fire on a dry stump, taking the bowl of stew Mary handed her. It was piping hot, the heat going almost straight through her gloves. She took a slow sip from her spoon and nearly swooned. It was the best damn thing she’d eaten in weeks. Months, maybe. Hell, _years_. It tasted like something she’d forgotten during all her time alone, like a fond memory from the past—a warm, well-built ranch and a husband’s happy laughter, now burned and gone and long since dead. It tasted of a life lost. Of home.

Her throat went tight and hot and something in her chest squeezed down hard. She had to pause and put the bowl on her knees for a spell, swallowing hard again and again.

“Do you like it?” Mary asked, her back turned, stirring at the pot bubbling over the fire.

“S’good,” Sadie mumbled, and took another, bigger bite of stew, not caring if she burned her mouth. She quickly finished the bowl and asked eagerly for more—her way of saying thanks—sniffling quietly all the while, hoping Mary would think it was from the heat of the stew, and not from all the warm, painful memories of good times gone by.

From that night on, Mary always made sure to do her part while Sadie was off, making them some money. She’d chop firewood, or brush and feed the horses, or try a little hunting herself, nabbing squirrels and gophers with Sadie’s varmint rifle. One afternoon, she took Sadie’s Carcano Rifle with her and came back a few hours with an entire deer, the young buck too heavy for her to lift, tied and dragged back to camp by Francine. They ate well for weeks, after that. Again, Sadie asked how she’d managed such a thing, and again, Mary just said, “Arthur taught me.”

For a man Sadie’d never met before and had only heard ‘bout by word of mouth, this Arthur Morgan feller seemed more and more a good, respectable man, despite his sorry past and fateful dealings with the law, if only for helping Mary Linton become the woman she was today—and for that, Sadie was sure grateful.

—

Don’t mean it was all good, though, their travels together. Sadie’d been expecting it. Two women out on the open road weren’t never safe, not when the world was so filled with cruel people intent on taking what wasn’t theirs.

One night, 'bout a month after their random encounter on the road outside Valentine, Sadie woke at the sound of Mary’s sharp gasp. Their bedrolls were on opposite sides of the still-glowing fire, and ‘fore Sadie could sit up, the cold barrel of a gun jabbed into her neck, keeping her frozen in place.

"Easy now…” grated a harsh voice above, and Sadie went perfectly still ‘cept for her eyes, darting here and there as she took in the situation. Some no-good feller’d snuck into their camp while they was sleeping and was tryna rob ‘em, if not kill ‘em. Why hadn’t she thought to stay up and keep watch, dammit? ‘Specially in this area. She’d gotten too comfortable in the added security of Mary’s company. Robbing two people rather’n one was harder to do, sure, but still simple enough, if you knew what you was doing. 

Trapped laying on her side with a gun at her neck, Sadie ground her teeth, hearing a jangle of leather and metal catches as the feller kicked her gun belt away from where she’d put it by her head ‘fore nodding off. One of her revolvers fell out and skidded through the dirt into the dark. Dammit.

“Don’t be gettin’ no ideas,” said the feller. “We kin do this nice n’ quiet-like. Hand over all yer money. _Slow_. You first.” He jabbed Sadie a bit harder with the gun and spared Mary, frozen in terror on her own bedroll, a nasty look. “No funny business, now. Don’t wan’ me ta shoot yer friend, do ya?”

Slowly, not daring to look ‘cross the fire and meet Mary’s frightened eyes, Sadie reached into the nearby saddlebag and found their billfold. She tossed it on the ground where the feller could get it. If she were alone, she might try to fight ‘im now, grab the gun and go for a tussle, but she couldn’t risk Mary getting shot, not for no measly 8 dollars.

The man seemed disappointed by the amount as well, but grumbled and pocketed it anyways. “What else y’got? Gold? Jewelry?”

Sadie shrugged and tensed when the gun dug harder under her chin. “Take mah horse,” she joked, “if he don’ bite yer hand off first, that is.”

The feller eyed Hera, tied up with Francine a dozen or so feet away, the horse choosing that moment to paw the ground powerfully and toss his massive head. The feller hesitated, wary, and seemed ‘bout to give up on his botched robbery, raising the gun slightly away from Sadie’s face.

Then his eyes went hard. “The ring,” he said suddenly.

Sadie’s heart went cold in her chest. Her eyes darted down to her bare hands, and the gold ring on her third finger. Jakey’s ring, the one he’d given her when they married.

“Hand it over,” the feller said. 

Sadie clenched her other fist protectively ‘round it. He’d have to kill her first. “Y'kin pry it off mah cold dead—”

A dazzling blow struck her in the temple as the feller hit her with the butt of his gun. Sadie gasped and struggled dazedly, shoved onto her stomach, a cruel knee digging into her back.

“Geddoff a' me!” she roared.

“Look, lady, jus’ gimme the damn—”

“Don’t move!” cried a shrill voice.

They both froze. Sadie craned her head up, saw Mary on the other side of the smoldering fire, Sadie’s kicked-away revolver in her hands, cocked and pointing straight at the man’s face.

Sadie thought Mary’s hands would be shaking with raw fear or nerves, but her grip was dead-steady. That, more’n anything, gave the feller kneeling on Sadie’s back pause.

“You put that gun down right now, little lady,” said the feller, though he was at a disadvantage, what with his gun already lowered to the side. “Don’t want nobody ta get hurt, do we?”

“If you move,” Mary said in the clearest voice Sadie’d ever heard, “I’ll shoot you, mister.”

“Easy,” said the feller. “I’ll return yer money. Here…”

He reached into his pocket with painstaking slowness. Suddenly the knee on Sadie’s back shifted, but before Sadie could shout a warning, the feller leapt from his kneeling crouch, straight for Mary, his gun swinging up and around.

Mary flinched, and the gun went off. The feller shouted and staggered back, dropping his own gun, hands clapped to the side of his head, blood spurting through his fingers. Sadie faintly heard something hit the ground and swore at the sight of a piece of bloody ear in the dirt. Mary’d shot it clean off the bastard!

Roaring in pain, the man lunged for Mary. Sadie seized him by the ankle, tripping him over into the fire with a burst of red embers, scrambling to her feet. Clothes smoldering, struggling to his knees, the feller looked up just in time for Sadie’s fist to crack so hard 'gainst his jaw her knuckles popped. He went down like a sack of rocks, but Sadie weren’t done. She straddled his chest and hit ‘im again, and again, ‘til her hands were sore and she was sure he was finished. Not dead, just done, but only ‘cause Mary was there. Otherwise, Sadie would’ve gladly let that familiar red rage take her over, the blind fury she’d used during her years of killing those goddamn O’Driscoll bastards. 

But, no, that was before, and Sadie, she weren’t no cold-blooded killer no more. She forced herself to stop, shaking her head clear, finding herself out of breath and jittery from adrenaline. Beneath her, the man lay still but for his harsh, bubbling breath. Sadie stood shakily and stepped away. 

“Mary?” she called out worriedly, turning ‘round.

In the meager light of their trodden campfire, Mary looked stricken, her face pale with horror, mouth hanging slightly open—but not at Sadie. Rather, she was looking at her own two hands, still holding Sadie’s revolver, like she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just done. Hell, Sadie was having trouble with it, too. She’d never thought quiet little Mary Linton could do such a bold thing as threaten and then actually shoot some nasty feller, and to protect Sadie Adler of all people besides. Sadie wouldn’ta even blamed her none if Mary’d hidden while the feller was distracted with Sadie, then waited ‘til he ran off, the fool woman. It was the smart thing to do, after all.

Brave little thang, Mary Linton was. Foolish, sure, but brave.

“Lemme take that,” Sadie said, approaching Mary slowly, keeping her voice low and soothing as she eased the gun from Mary’s white-knuckle grip. While it was clear Mary had certainly held or fired a gun before, it sure seemed now that she’d never actually shot a person with one.

Mary released the gun and seemed to sag a bit. Sadie surveyed their invaded camp—the feller still breathing harshly over by the fire, out cold, his horse whickering a-ways off—and said, “Whut y’say we clear out, huh?”

Seeming to gather herself, Mary nodded. Together, they repacked their things and put out the fire, but not ‘fore Sadie robbed the stupid feller blind, frisking him clean of his guns, money, and anything else of value. His horse, she lassoed tight and tied to the horn of Hera’s saddle. They’d sell ‘im at the next nearest Fence, teach that dumb feller a lesson or two.

By the light of the moon, they cantered off a good ways. When they felt safe again—or, ‘bout as safe as they could feel, after all that—they stopped and set up camp for the second time that night, only this time without a fire. Sadie put her bedroll right next to Mary’s.

“Seems we’re makin’ a habit of savin’ each other, aren’t we, now?” she tried to joke.

Mary gave her a weak smile. “Seems so,” she said, then lifted a hand to her brow, looking dreadful pale. “I’m feelin’ a little faint, I think. I might like to lay down now.”

Sadie helped her lower herself to the bedroll and then got settled on her own, though she weren’t planning on sleeping anytime soon. The weight of her guns on her hips were a small comfort, and her Carbine Repeater, she kept propped just nearby.

“I’m sorry,” Mary said suddenly. 

“Sorry?” said Sadie, lighting up a cigarette with a red flare of her match.

“I didn’t want to kill him. That’s why I only…” Mary fell quiet, then said again, “I’m sorry.”

Sadie huffed. “Yer a tough lady, Mary Linton, n’ don’ let nobody tell y' otherwise.”

For the first time since Sadie had rescued her, Mary smiled. If Sadie had thought her a pretty little thing before, now she was just ‘bout the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, even swamped in darkness, features outlined in the meager light of the moon.

“Not as tough as you, Sadie Adler,” Mary said in return.

—

Out riding a few days later, Sadie got to thinking ‘bout the other night, how Mary had seemed so sorry for what she’d done, like it weren’t an accident she’d shot the feller’s ear off ‘stead of just squeezing the trigger on sheer reflex and luck. It made Sadie wonder just how used to guns Mary was—she sure held ‘em easy 'nough, and properly, too, and from the look of things when she cleaned Sadie’s for her, she definitely knew what she was doing.

Curious, Sadie waited ‘til after they’d made camp early that afternoon, then set up a line of empty cans and bottles on some rocks a-ways out. She smoked and took a few lazy potshots with her revolvers ‘til Mary wandered over, wondering what all the commotion was about, face and hair damp from a rinse in the nearby stream.

Sadie took a shot at a bottle and missed, then offered Mary her second revolver. “Wanna try?” 

Mary seemed reluctant at first, taking the gun with visible hesitance, no doubt still spooked by their encounter the other night, then warmed up to the idea when Sadie cracked one of the furthest targets and whooped aloud in triumph as the can went flying. Sadie tried for a second one, missed, then noticed Mary edging forward, and stepped aside for her to have a turn. 

Mary picked one of the closer targets, squinted, aimed carefully, waited a moment, then fired. Sadie felt a small kick in her chest when the bottle popped and exploded glass ‘cross the rocks. She whooped again and Mary blushed. 

“Anyone could’ve hit that…” she demurred, but Sadie could tell when someone was boasting, and when someone was just being modest. If this woman didn’t know how to shoot, Sadie’d eat her hat.

Sadie couldn’t resist. “Wanna have a lil’ competition? Loser cooks supper.”

Mary cocked her head, then grinned shyly. It was the first halfway-confident look Sadie’d seen from her since they’d met, and something ‘bout it hit deep, in a good way. Her chest gave another small kick, like a bottle were popping inside of her this time.

“Best outta five targets,” Sadie said, making up the rules as she went. She fetched the remaining cans and bottles and put ‘em out further than before, just to make it a real challenge. When she jogged back, she was very aware of Mary watching her closely, and made a show of taking off her hat and spinning the cylinder on her revolver in false bravado. “Ready?”

Mary nodded and stepped back, letting Sadie go first. Sadie drew a line in the dirt with her boot, took a stance, held her cigarette tight in her teeth, aimed carefully for each target, and shot five times, pausing between her shots to line up her targets. She took her time ‘bout it, refusing to rush, but only hit three out of the five. She weren’t surprised, though—the best shot in the West, Sadie Adler sure wasn’t, and the targets were plenty far away besides. At least she'd hit any of 'em.

“Your turn,” she said and stepped back.

Mary took her place quietly, toe on the drawn line. As Sadie watched, she turned herself sideways and held Sadie’s revolver upright in one hand, her slender arm perfectly outstretched. She squeezed her left eye closed, and then suddenly, almost seeming not to aim, shot rapid-fire— _bam, bam, bam, bam, bam_ —her thumb a blur as it cocked the hammer for each bullet, hitting each of her five targets square and true in the space of less’n two breaths. 

Cans spun high into the air, glass exploding 'cross the rocks with each shot, the gun reports collapsing together and echoing on into the canyons beyond. 

Sadie’s cigarette fell from her open mouth and fizzled out on the bare ground.

Mary lowered her arm and turned back to her, twirling the gun expertly on her forefinger. Then she winked—winked!—and held the gun out so Sadie could take it safely by the handle.

“Enjoy cookin’ tonight, Missus Adler,” she said playfully, tucking a curled bit of hair behind her ear ‘fore swanning off, looking right pleased with herself. 

“Arthur teach you that, too?” Sadie called after her. Mary laughed, a bright, happy sound that made Sadie’s heart go light and giddy. Sadie grinned and watched her go, feeling like this woman were a right mystery, but one she might like to try and solve someday.

—

Weeks passed. ‘Fore Sadie knew it, two months had gone by, then three and four. Full summer became golden-brown fall. Across the country, farms were tended and crops readied for the eventual harvest, trees felled and firewood chopped in preparation for ever-approaching winter. Log cabins and houses sprung up like weeds, once-small towns sprawling larger almost every day, trains constantly rumbling by on their ever-growing snarl of tracks. 

Couldn’t stop the advance of civilization nor the greedy, far-extending reach of man, Sadie knew. The West was changing sure as rain. She and Mary, they saw it all, traveling from New Hanover to West Elizabeth to New Austin and back again, even swinging north to see a bit of the Ambarinos ‘fore full winter hit, then skirting east to Annesburg and heading south into Lemoyne, never staying in one place longer’n a week or so. 

By now, Sadie’d grown used to having Mary traveling with her, the other woman near constantly at her side, ‘til it almost seemed she couldn’t remember no different. Them sad, lonely days of wandering alone on the road were gone, and Sadie, well, she sure couldn’t say she missed ‘em none. As for Mary, she seemed happy enough to continue to keep her company. She smiled and laughed so easy now, and didn’t cry no more at night, if that meant anything. Sadie sure hoped it did.

Knowing it’d be getting colder soon, Sadie bought 'em a small canvas tent for camp so she and Mary could sleep fine in the rain and chill, and at night found herself liking Mary’s close, warm presence at her back when they slept. It reminded her of when she were married, only… different, but not entirely. It was hard to explain. Sadie felt odd whenever she thought about it too much. She missed Jakey something awful, always would, but having Mary around, it… it helped, more’n she could say, and hopefully, it helped Mary, too. It showed Sadie that she wasn’t just taking care of Mary, but that Mary was taking care of her, too.

She still kept Mary out of the dirty business anytime she went off to look for work, though she found herself taking on the black market rackets and robbery jobs less and less as time went by. ‘Fore long, she was going out of her way to look for more honest, legitimate employment—things like protecting trade routes for merchants or guarding tobacco fields at night for landowners. It weren’t so dangerous as them other jobs, too, nor so apt to have cruel-hearted men following after her with blood on their minds. Now, ‘stead of feeling dirty or ashamed when she finished a job, she felt proud, and brought home her well-earned pay to Mary with head high and renewed conscience clear. The warm look Mary always gave her when she trotted back into camp, those dark, doe eyes of hers filled with a fond gratitude and no little respect, made it all worthwhile.

On a warm day in late fall, they rode together into Rhodes. They’d arrived in the area a few days back and set up camp in the hills near Ringneck Creek, north of town, wary of unwarranted visitors, and after several peaceful nights had decided to head in for supplies.

Unlike Saint Denis, which was far too loud and crowded for her tastes, Sadie liked Rhodes well ‘nough. It was a quiet place but rowdy if you knew where to look, and a nice change of pace from the thick, swampy wilderness and hard dirt roads they’d traveled through to get there.

They left their horses hitched by the general store, and while Mary went along the line of shops to take in the sights and get them some much needed rations, Sadie went looking for work, as she usually did when they came into each pocket of civilization dotting the wide countryside.

Unfortunately, there weren’t much work to be had. The manors had all the hands they needed and business at the stagecoaches was slow. As a last resort, she knocked on the door to the Sheriff’s and went in. 

“Howdy,” said a feller with the biggest mustache Sadie’d ever seen and a star pinned on his jacket. Sadie waited a moment, as she always did when dealing with the law, just in case she were recognized from her short but bloody outlaw past, but the feller didn’t even blink. “What kin I do fer ya, ma’am?”

Sadie paused again. Bounties were legitimate work, so to speak, though she knew Mary didn’t like when she took ‘em, if only ‘cause she didn’t want Sadie getting shot up or hurt on their behalf. Still, beggars couldn’t be no choosers, and Sadie’s billfold was lighter’n she liked. They needed to eat. “Got any work, mister?”

“Depends how des’prate y’are,” said the Sheriff, and motioned at the wall, where a single poster was tacked. Sadie obliged and removed it to take a closer look.

On it was a picture of a weasly-looking feller with a big hat. _Ramon Cortez_ , it said. Wanted for murder, theft, robbery, you name it. Sadie whistled lowly as the list went on. This here was a bad man, rotten right to the core.

“Nasty feller,” said the Sheriff helpfully. “Killed a whole family out by Blackwater a few weeks back, n’ Lord knows who else besides. Runs with a gang called the Del Lobos, originally from out west, New Austin. He’s one a’ their leaders. Damn near every time we catch ‘im, his posse busts ‘im out ‘fore we can hang ‘im. Shame.”

Sadie nodded. Below Cortez’s picture were the words _WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE_.

The reward, listed just above that, made Sadie near inhale her cigarette in disbelief. “Five hundred dollars?” she rasped, tryna keep her voice even. “Jeezus. Why so much?”

“One a’ them ones he murdered turned out to be the niece a’ the mayor in Saint Denis,” said the Sheriff. “He personally added a bonus to the bounty, fer, ah, incentive purposes.”

Incentive purposes? That sounded ‘bout right. The paper crinkled in Sadie’s fingers as her hands trembled. Five hundred dollars was damn near unspeakable for a single bounty. That kinda money would get her and Mary through the remainder of the year and then some. They could rest easy through winter, or travel as they pleased without worry, or even buy a nice piece of land to call their own and settle down if they chose. It was guaranteed freedom, the possibility of dreaming for the unthinkable, and so much more.

“Ain’t no one caught ‘im yet?” she asked, surprised the poster was still up if the reward was so high. It looked like it’d been hanging there a while, too, edges curled and discolored.

“Oh, they’ve tried,” said the Sheriff grimly. “I should warn ya, ma’am. No less’n three other bounty hunters went after Cortez, and ain’t none a’ them come back. Been weeks since anyone tried, if I’m bein’ honest. Y’see, this feller, he’s known for bein’ ‘specially ruthless. Anyone who’s ever wronged him ended up dead, or, barrin’ that, paid for it dearly with the lives a’ their family n’ loved ones. After those first few bounty hunters went missin’, ain’t nobody else tried—too scared. Cortez, he don’t care much who he kills, so long as he’s hurtin’ someone. He’s a blackhearted, vengeful sonva bitch, that’s fer sure.”

Sadie was quiet. It seemed a death sentence, a fool’s job—five hundred dollars for a single man, yet no one had managed to claim the reward yet. Sure, Sadie’d always thought she wanted to die. After Jakey, and them awful O’Driscolls, she’d truly believed it was over for her. What else did she have to live for? Dying didn’t scare her none, not after that. 

Now, though… Well, what would happen to Mary if Sadie weren’t around no more? Way Sadie saw it, there was nothing for it but to stay alive for her sake, so’s she could keep protecting her. 

But to protect someone, you needed more than just good intentions. Money’s what made the world go ‘round these days, and five hundred dollars was a lot. Too much to walk away from, that’s for sure.

“Kin Ah take this?” Sadie asked, and when the Sheriff nodded, folded up the poster into a neat little square. 

“Good luck t’ya, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat at her. “Yer gonna need it.”

“Ain’t made up mah mind yet,” Sadie insisted, though inside, she knew she had. The money made the risk worth it. If she could find this Cortez feller, her and Mary would be set for a good while, though she knew the other woman wouldn’t approve of Sadie putting herself in danger just to keep ‘em warm and fed. 

In that moment, she wondered if this was how Arthur, Mary’s lost love, had felt, saying to her, _Just one more. Just one more, Mary, I swear._

“Jus’ one more,” she whispered to herself, and slipped the folded up paper into her pocket.

—

When they got back to their camp, the sun was starting to set, the horizon cast a bright, bloody red color that made Sadie oddly nervous. Feeling the crinkle of the folded poster in her trouser pocket every time she moved, she decided if she were doing the fool job, she’d try to do it tonight, and just get the damn thing over and done with. 

“Ah’ve got a job,” she announced after helping Mary find some firewood for the evening and piled it by their little canvas tent. She’d been too anxious to eat their supper, a roasted, well-seasoned grouse Mary’d shot on their way back from Rhodes.

“Oh?” said Mary, distracted with drying Sadie’s pan and packing it away in a saddlebag.

“A boun'y,” said Sadie, ‘fore she could ask, and did her best not to flinch when Mary looked up at her—not sharply, or like she were disappointed or irritated, just concerned, like she always was when it came to Sadie taking on that sort of work. “Ah’ll be fine,” she said, tongue near curling ‘round the lie. “But Ah need t’ head out soon. Now, actually.”

“Oh,” Mary said again, sounding a bit sad and unsure this time, wiping her hands on her skirt ‘fore tucking a dark lock of hair behind her ear. “Well… you'll be careful, now, won't you?”

“‘Course,” said Sadie, and stubbed out the cigarette she’d lit only a few minutes ago but hadn’t been able to smoke from nerves, grinding the butt under the heel of her boot. She took a step forward, toward Mary, who went still, surprised. Sadie didn’t usually linger so long ‘fore a job.

“Sadie—?” she began questioningly, but Sadie cut her off.

“Stay here,” she told Mary, her voice as harsh and firm as she could make it. “Promise me. Y'wait here ‘til Ah get back. Ah won’ be long.” Unholstering one of her revolvers, she held it out to her. “Take this. Please. Jus’ so Ah know you’ll be safe.”

Mary was quiet. Her face, though edged with confusion, was bright and familiar and beautiful, not at all suspicious of what Sadie was doing, how she was lying to her and riding off to maybe get her damn self killed. Sadie was ready to beg for her to take it, but then Mary reached out, clasped the gun, and tucked it quickly into the back of her skirt, under her belt. 

Sadie thought she'd feel better, knowing Mary had a weapon, but she didn’t. She still felt as awful and rotten a coward as before. “Stay here,” she said again, though now it was more of a beg than a command.

Mary bit her lip, then nodded. “I promise, Sadie,” she said, and Sadie ‘bout sagged with relief to hear it. “I’ll wait up for you, for when you get back.”

Struck with a sudden, powerful surge of affection, Sadie reached out, took Mary by the waist, and hugged her tightly. It was the first time she’d ever done so. Mary went rigid with shock at the sudden embrace, then seemed to melt in her arms, as if she’d been waiting forever for Sadie to hold her like this, turning her face so her nose rested just below Sadie’s chin. She fit perfectly. She was small and warm and sweet-smelling, and after only a moment or two, raised her own arms and held Sadie back just as fiercely, fingers digging hard into the back of her shirt.

“Whut’re y’doin’ here, Mary?” Sadie whispered, at a loss, feeling oddly emotional just then. Like she was off to the gallows and this was her last goodbye with the only person who gave a damn ‘bout her in the world.

Mary’s head shifted, her ear brushing Sadie’s cheek. “What d’you mean?” she asked, puzzled, breathing warmly into Sadie’s shoulder. “I’m—I’m here ‘cause you’re huggin’ me—”

“No,” said Sadie. “Ah meant, whut’re y’doin’ here, with _me_?” Suddenly she couldn't stop herself, all the weakness and doubt and worries she’d ever had pouring out at once. “Ah’m—Ah’m no good, don’ y'know that? Ah ain’t nothin’ but trouble. Ah done so many bad things in mah life. Cain’t even take proper care of you. Maybe Ah shoulda left y' in Valentine like y'wan’ed.”

Mary jerked back, glaring up at Sadie and bristling like a wildcat. “Don’t you say that,” she snapped. “Don’t you regret what you done, 'cause this is where I wanna be, Sadie Adler, and I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t. Not in some city or town or married off to another feller. I’m here. With you. You saved me, understand?” Her eyes seemed to say, _now please, let me do the same for you._

‘Cause really, she _was_ saving Sadie—saving her from an awful, lonely life of spite and hatred and death and regret, saving her from her own sorrow and grief and poisonous anger, and how she’d been tryna kill herself for these past few years, not with a noose or a gun but with danger and violence and cold blooded misery. That dead-end road Sadie’d been walking on only stopped in one place, and Mary, she’d taken Sadie’s hand, showed her a new direction, and helped her take the first few steps to start her along the way.

Sadie knew she might die tonight, might lose it all, and yet she still wanted to say so many things to Mary. Like, _Ah ain’t nothin’ without you_ , or _Please don’t ever go_ , or _Y'made me happy when Ah thought there was nothin’ else left_.

Mary looked at her, then, and somehow, it was like she understood everything Sadie couldn’t say. 

“Oh, Sadie,” she said, and smiled sadly.

Sadie made herself let her go. She whirled ‘round and stalked over to Hera, feeling scared and confused and overwhelmed, ashamed of herself but utterly determined to return to Mary, whatever the cost. She hoisted herself into her saddle, took one last look at Mary—standing there alone by the campfire with hands clasped in front of her, backlit by the flames in a brilliant red glow, her shadowed face serene and beautiful and filled with a strange, deeply-sat yearning—and then put her heels to her horse and raced off into the night.  
  


—

Getting herself into a goddamn fool of a shootout weren’t part of Sadie’s plan, going in, but there sure weren’t no getting out of it now. 

‘Fore she’d headed out of town earlier that day, the Rhodes Sheriff had given her a tip that Ramon Cortez might be hunkered down somewhere near Dewberry Creek, a rocky area scattered through with dry brooks and trees near the northern border of Lemoyne. Sadie weren’t too familiar with the area, and took care riding Hera through the thick brush and various gullies and ridges, looking for the signs of a low-lying gang tryna avoid the law. 

Hours later, she was ready to give up. It was far past midnight and she didn’t like Hera trotting about in the dark, risking a broken leg from a gopher hole with every step, nevermind that if she did find the gang, she’d have to go ahead and go through with this deadman’s errand. 

Just ‘fore she was ‘bout to turn tail and head on back to camp, five hundred dollars be damned, she smelled smoke. Curious, she followed it to a dry creekbed scattered with debris—broken down wagons, shattered boards, bent bits of metal. Feeling in her gut she was on the right track, she followed it a-ways and jerked Hera to a sudden halt at the sight of a distant campfire under a train bridge. Ringed ‘round the fire were the dark shapes of a group of jeering, shabby-looking men. 

Christ. She’d found ‘em.

In the dark, Sadie couldn’t tell who was who, though she was sure they were Del Lobo, judging by their clothing and accents. But which one was Cortez, if the feller were even there? She circled carefully ‘round the camp and stopped at an old, abandoned water mill on the hill nearby, slid off Hera, retrieved her Carcano Rifle, and shooed her horse off. Finding herself a good vantage point, she used the scope to get herself a closer look at the situation ‘fore she did anything else. 

There were ‘bout fifteen fellers down there, looked like. Sadie counted twice to make sure. Most had guns or rifles, their horses grouped and hitched up nearby. Some of the fellers looked drunk. Others were sleeping. To Sadie, they didn’t look awful tough, though prob’ly she were just tryna convince herself this foolishness was anything close to a good idea.

By the time she was ready, the scheduled 3AM train had come and gone, rumbling over the gang’s hideout with a deafening clatter, though none of the men paid it no nevermind. More had dozed off by now, though Sadie could see at least four still awake. Plan was, she’d creep down there and take care of the look-outs, then find Cortez and either knock him out and creep away silently, or take him hostage if the others had caught on by then.

‘Course, Sadie weren’t ever the best at stealth, and the very first feller she knocked out with a stunning blow from the butt of her rifle fired his own gun by sheer reflex. Goddamn!

In an instant, the camp was on high alert, fellers hollering everyone awake and guns blasting pell-mell right at Sadie, who swore and threw herself behind the nearest boulder.

Thankful for the extra practice she’d gotten during these past few months—Mary was a hesitant but thorough teacher, showing Sadie near everything Arthur’d taught her ‘bout guns and shooting, which was a lot—Sadie used the light of the moon to pick her targets as well she could, crouching tight behind the boulder for cover, hot chips of rock whizzing by as bullets cracked past her ears, only just missing. One almost hit the hat right off her head, leaving a smoking hole burned through the brim.

Somehow, by sheer luck more’n true skill, prob’ly, Sadie managed to slowly whittle their numbers down. When there were only half a dozen fellers left, she checked her ammunition, grimaced, and took another shot. Hell, maybe she _should’ve_ brought Mary, then she wouldn’ta wasted so damn much!

Suddenly, one of the men yelled something to the others, then turned and ran, jumping on one of the horses and kicking it off into a gallop. Sadie caught a brief glimpse of his face in her scope, and knew in her gut it was Cortez, tryna get away.

“You bastard!” she hollered.

She whistled and sprinted for Hera, who came running. She leapt on and he neighed shrilly, rose up on his back legs, and gave chase, bullets whizzing by all the while. Sadie was worried the rest of the bandits might follow, though she was sure Hera could outpace ‘em easy enough, but when she looked back over her shoulder, the five or so men were mounting their horses but wheeling ‘round and setting off in the other direction. Cowards, making a run for it, just like their boss.

With renewed focus, she urged Hera after Cortez. For a good while, it was just him and her and the stretch of ground shrinking ‘tween ‘em. After a neck-breaking gallop over several miles, she got close enough to sling her rope at him, catching the bastard ‘round the middle. She yanked hard and jerked ‘im right outta the saddle with a hard _thud_.

“Whoa!” she cried, skidding Hera to a stop and jumping off. On the ground, writhing 'gainst her rope, was just the man she was after—Ramon Cortez, in the flesh. Jesus. She’d done it.

“A woman?” Cortez barked disdainfully up at her. He’d hit his face in the fall from his horse, nose bleeding down over his chin. He laughed. “Hey, chica. You’re in for it now, eh? Don’t you know who I am?”

“Shut yer mouth,” said Sadie, shaky from the gunfight and headlong chase, and set to tying ‘im up good and proper.

“I’m no nice guy, chica. Let me go, and I promise I won’t hold no grudges, eh? You want gold? I’ve got gold. I’ll give you two thousand dollars worth of gold!”

“Shuddup,” said Sadie again, hogtying the fool and searching his pockets for weapons.

Cortez seemed to realize Sadie couldn’t be baited. The playful smile on his bloody face twisted into something sick and cruel. “Listen, lady. You let me go, or—”

“Or whut?” Sadie snapped back, ready to cuff the bastard into silence.

Cortez leered. “I know everythin’ that happens ‘round here, yeah? Two strangers, both women, ridin’ ‘round town and visiting the Sheriff, n’ now _you_ show up?”

Sadie’s guts went cold. She should’ve figured Cortez had scouts of his own, that he weren’t just sitting there in his camp waiting for someone to come to him. He must’ve sent members of his gang sniffing ‘round at some point. He’d known ‘bout Sadie from the get-go. 

“Ah work alone,” Sadie lied, though her voice was shaking.

“‘Course you do,” said Cortez. “You left your little friend back at camp, eh? Don’t worry. My men will take good care of her, I promise.”

A bullet of ice snapped through Sadie’s chest. The men—the ones who’d wheeled off—they weren’t fleeing. They were heading back towards Sadie’s camp. Towards Mary. 

The Rhodes Sheriff had been right—Ramon Cortez was a cold, black-hearted son of a bitch with a taste for vengeance. He was nothing but a venomous snake, and now Sadie was feeling the bite.

“Better hurry,” said Cortez, chuckling dark and meanly. “You’ll have to bring me in real quick so you can get your money and go save your friend.”

Sadie’s mind raced. She had Ramon Cortez tied up and ready to go to jail. The five hundred dollar bounty was good as hers. But bringing ‘im to Rhodes would take too long, and carrying ‘im back to camp with her meant Hera couldn’t run as fast. They’d never beat the men already on their way. And leaving Cortez here meant someone might come ‘round and free the damn bastard. He’d get away, avoid the noose, and come after them again, no doubt.

“So, whatchu gon’ do, lady?” Cortez gloated, smiling at her with bloody teeth, as if knowing she were stuck good and fast.

 _Dead or Alive_ , Sadie told herself, unholstered her revolver, and shot Ramon Cortez point blank in the chest.

She whistled and was on Hera’s back ‘fore the feller’d even stopped twitching. She left ‘im there in the dirt, all five hundred dollar bounty and everything, and raced off into the night, leaning low over Hera’s neck.

She rode hard as she could back toward camp, terrified and furious in turn. These were bad men in front of her. They might do anything to Mary. Beat her, torture her, hurt her something awful. Kill her, even, or drag her off for another ransom. They had a headstart on Sadie, too, though she was sure she had the better horse. Hera seemed to sense her panic—he was a _beast_ , galloping headlong for miles and miles, not slowing for nothing, running tirelessly, like something possessed, his powerful legs churning through the distance ‘tween her and Mary like a speeding train.

_Just one more. Just one more. Oh, Mary, forgive me._

The second Hera began to flag in his monstrous flight back to Ringneck Creek, the light of their distant campfire glinted into view. Sadie swore—she should’ve hidden it better. The first few fingers of dawn had just begun to creep over the far horizon, utter black fading to a light, rosy pink.

Suddenly, the sound of explosive gunfire erupted—she hadn’t beaten the men there. Sadie ‘bout jumped right outta her skin at the tumult, terrified for Mary, yelling “ _Yah!_ ” and digging her heels in to desperately force Hera onward. She was nearly there when another horse bolted by, heading the opposite way—Francine, scared but unharmed by the look of it. Sadie’d catch her later, but first—

But first—

“ _Mary!_ ” she shouted, finally coming into camp and skidding Hera to a halt. Her poor horse was gleaming with sweat, flanks heaving. She was lucky he hadn’t tripped in the dark and broken his neck, or didn’t die right then from exhaustion. Sadie leapt off him, beyond thankful he’d gotten her there at all, and staggered forward, feeling dizzy on her own two feet after so long and frantic a ride. The frantic gunfire had quieted, though she could hear scared horses neighing nearby and see debris scattered on the ground. Where—?

Something caught her foot and she looked down, then froze. “Shit!”

It wasn’t debris. Littered by the dwindling campfire were the bodies of five dead men. One’d been shot through the eye, another in the forehead. Two more were still moaning faintly, breathing their last, curled up with hands clutched to their guts. The fifth had died fast, a cold hand still grasping his bloody chest, shot directly in the heart. 

Mary was nowhere in sight. The camp was in disarray, like there’d been a fierce struggle. Their tent had been knocked down, their saddlebags and belongings kicked about.

“Mary?” she called again, voice gravelly with panic. Ain’t no way five men lay dead here in the dirt while a single woman walked away unharmed. Ain’t no way they were that lucky. It just didn’t work like that. The world was a cruel place for people like them, and Sadie, she knew more’n others not to hope, not to expect nothing but the worst, knew that it’d do no good to pray for anything else after she’d done so and all the bad things in her life had come to pass anyways, but still—but still—

Something moved. Sadie gasped.

Crouched by a nearby boulder, dark hair askew, eyes wild like an animal’s and Sadie’s gun clutched tight in her hand, was Mary. She drew a bead on Sadie on sheer instinct, all quick-fire nerves but aim not the least bit shaky, face cold and numbed and stony ‘fore she realized just who she was aiming at. She stood hastily, face sagging as she lowered the gun, knees quivering like they were ‘bout to give out. There was blood on her chin from a glancing punch to her mouth and more on her sleeve from a nasty bullet graze.

“Sadie,” she gasped. “Sadie, I—”

Then her face went hard and frigid. The gun in her hand snapped up and fired instantly. Sadie felt the heat of the bullet crack by her ear and stood there, frozen for several seconds with her heart in her throat. She heard a gurgle, then turned and watched as the last Del Lobo member, a sixth man she hadn’t even noticed, fell dead to the ground, a throwing knife aimed for Sadie’s back still in his hand. Mary’d shot ‘im straight through the throat. Sadie stared, mute and dazed, as he twitched and kicked and at last went still.

"Are you alright, Sadie?” Mary asked breathlessly.

Sadie turned to her. A hot wave surged through her body, almost like being struck by a bolt of lightning. The feeling from before was back, that confusing, unfamiliar knot of heat in her stomach, mixed with a dozen others she knew the names to—relief, fear, awe, pain, gratitude, regret, affection, sorrow, love. It was the last that came out strongest, thundering forth like some unstoppable force, and Sadie seized it with all she had and held on fast, even though it burned.

She lurched forward, grabbed Mary by the front of her shirt and kissed her, good and hard. Mary made a soft, shocked sound ‘gainst her mouth and dropped her gun with an audible _thud,_ surprised or aghast or maybe even offended, but she didn’t push Sadie away or slap her or nothing. Matter a’ fact, after a second or two she reached up and sank her fingers into the sleeves of Sadie’s shirt, clinging on for dear life, stepping closer and almost knocking Sadie’s hat off her head in her sudden enthusiasm, kissing her back ‘til the both of ‘em were breathless and flushed and dizzy and alive. 

_Alive_.

—

By morning light, they returned together to collect Ramon Cortez’s corpse. Sadie kept Hera at a slow trot, anxious to give the horse some rest after his exhausting race back to camp. They’d found Francine a few miles out, the spooked mare returning to Mary’s hand after some coaxing and not a few sugar cubes. The rest of the gang’s scattered horses, they left alone.

Cortez was right where Sadie’d left him. He’d been nibbled on by some night critter or another, but a cougar hadn’t dragged ‘im off and his face was mostly untouched, so Sadie tied him to Francine to spare her own horse and she and Mary headed for Rhodes.

The Sheriff seemed surprised to see Sadie back so soon, bushy eyebrows rising high, taking visible note of her haggard, weary face, Mary’s bloodstained shirt, and the partially feral light in the fine woman’s dark, hooded eyes.

“You ladies look like y’ had yerselves a battle,” he commented, then whistled, impressed, when he saw exactly who they’d brought to him. “I’ll be damned.”

Sadie didn’t need no fanfare. She dumped the body on the steps, took the stack of money from the Sheriff without a word, and went straight to the parlour house down the street to buy her and Mary both a turn with a washtub. It was the very least they’d earned after all that, in her opinion.

Afterwards, clean but far from rested, they bought and ate a celebratory meal of whiskey and the house specialty, fried catfish, though Sadie found she much preferred Mary’s honest and hearty campfire cooking. When Sadie asked if she wanted to rent a room for tonight, and sleep in a real bed for once, Mary just shook her head and replied with a quiet, “No.” 

Only slightly surprised, Sadie nodded and avoided her eyes, as she’d been doing all that morning. As if in apology for her newfound awkward behavior, she bought Mary a new shirt to replace her torn, bloody one, and had the local doctor see to her hastily bandaged arm, though Mary outright refused to go in ‘til Sadie agreed to get herself looked at, too.

The doctor told ‘em they were both fine, just fatigued and in sore need of some rest. He did Mary’s arm up proper, sold 'em a bottle of tonic for their bruises, and sent ‘em on their way. Sadie didn’t protest none—she considered it a damn-near miracle neither of ‘em had been full-on shot or killed during the wild, harebrained gunfights they’d both had the night before. She weren't sure who exactly was looking out for 'em—God or Jakey or maybe even Arthur—but either way, she was awful thankful for their wayward protection.

As they left town, Sadie could see folks gathering and heard ‘em murmuring in awe ‘bout how she’d nabbed the man three other bounty hunters couldn’t, though she didn’t feel particularly prideful ‘bout it, just tired and sore and damn lucky to be alive.

They rode north, heading out of Lemoyne and toward the New Hanover Heartlands. They stopped only to eat when they were hungry and went on ‘til practically full dark. Sadie found she was almost afraid to call a stop, knowing when she did she’d have to face Mary and everything that’d so recently changed ‘tween ‘em. Trotting behind her on Francine, Mary was similarly silent, her usually warm, open expression closed off and reserved. Not cold, exactly, just... thoughtful.

Eventually, they left the road and found themselves a private, quiet stand of trees for the night. Sadie got down and started setting up camp without a word. Mary watched her in that quietly intense way of hers, eyes practically burning holes 'gainst Sadie’s back, then daintily got off her own horse to help.

Sadie was beyond exhausted. She’d been up the entire night before, hunting down Cortez and then racing back to camp, but for some reason the thought of getting some well-deserved sleep now seemed daunting to her—or maybe it was just the thought of sharing the tent’s close quarters with Mary that spooked her, after that fiery kiss they’d had and then neglected to talk about for the whole goddamn day, for obvious reasons.

Coward that she was, after the horses were brushed and the meal eaten and fire banked, Sadie said to Mary in as normal a voice as she could muster, “Ah’m gunna stay up a bit. Make sure we ain’t been followed. Jus’ in case.”

Mary was quiet, and for a long moment just looked at Sadie again with those dark, unreadable eyes of hers. Sadie was near squirming when at last she said, “Alright.” She seemed ‘bout to say something else, then thought better of it, and knelt and slipped inside their shared tent without another word, the little canvas flaps falling shut after her. A few seconds later, the soft glow of their hanging lantern went on inside, and Sadie watched the dim shape of Mary settling down for the night 'fore making herself look away.

Sadie sat by the fire and nursed her tin cup for a spell, the coffee since gone cold and bitter, smoking a cigarette and thinking herself into a dozen confusing circles. She felt jumpy and off, like she sometimes did before a risky job or when she'd hugged Mary close the other night, her stomach going upside down and sideways and tied in knots besides. Her heart was racing strangely, lodged up high in her throat, her knee jittering uncontrollably under her elbow. She forced it still, pulled her hat down, and made herself wait for their tent to go dark, wondering if maybe she should try and get some sleep out here, just to avoid the other woman a bit longer.

Some time later, she noticed their little tent was still aglow—Mary hadn’t snuffed the lantern yet, which was odd, as she’d never had a problem going to sleep without Sadie before, and for a moment, she was concerned. Then it hit.

Mary was waiting, too.

Only, she weren't waiting like Sadie was, hiding out here in the dark, too afraid to take a bold step forward into the gap that'd formed 'tween 'em. No, Mary was good and ready, that was clear, even now, when the both of 'em were at their most unsure and scared, nevermind that there weren’t any guns going off just then or bad men on their trail no more. Maybe it'd just been too long for Sadie to ever hope or believe someone so good and pure as Mary might care for a rotten scoundrel like her, that she might want her the way Sadie wanted her... It just couldn't be possible.

But then, Sadie thought suddenly, she’d already gone and kissed her, hadn’t she, had already showed Mary her heart and all she had to give, and the other woman hadn’t slapped her or scowled in disgust or up and left her behind.

No. 'Stead, she was still here, in their tent, waiting on _her_.

A warm, syrupy feeling pooled in Sadie's chest at that, bracing and only faintly familiar. It reminded her of bravery, of sincere trust and utter gratitude and open affection. It reminded her of a hard-earned happiness, that far-traveling friend she hadn't seen in so long.

She stood, not taking her eyes from the tent's warm, golden glow. Really, it was far too cold to be spending the night out here, after all.

'Sides, what was she so scared of, anyways? Little ol’ Mary Linton?

Mary, who could shoot the ear off a man ‘fore you could blink, who was kind and fierce and so much stronger’n she looked, who made Sadie feel like deciding to live was the first right choice she’d made after all those horrible years of blood and pain and misery, Mary, beautiful Mary...

Sadie threw out the rest of her coffee, tossed her cigarette into the embers of their dying campfire, made sure the horses were set, and took a deep, shaky breath ‘fore ducking into the tent.

—

Mary, she could tell right away, was wide awake, lying perfectly still on her bedroll with her back turned. She’d folded up Sadie’s old coat for a pillow, and taken off her boots and stockings and undone her hair but had left the one wool blanket they shared when it was cool folded to the side. In the soft glow of the lantern hanging from a hook above their heads, Sadie could see the light, delicate-looking skin at the nape of her neck, dusted by a scatter of dark brown beauty marks, and gulped tightly. 

On her knees so she wouldn’t bump the ceiling of the low tent, Sadie took off her hat, gloves, boots, holsters and belt and then laid down carefully on the other bedroll behind her. After a prolonged moment, she reached out and placed her hand on Mary's back. Beneath her palm, she could feel the subtle bumps of Mary's ribcage, the rapid rise and fall of her lungs as she breathed, and the soft but quick-thudding beat of her heart, hammering every bit as fast as Sadie's just then.

Slowly, Mary stirred and turned herself over, one hand propped decorously under her cheek, fine knuckles dimpling her soft skin. Sadie copied her so they was facing one another in the gloom. Mary's dark doe eyes were big, her expression anxious and hesitant yet somehow openly inviting and filled with a palpable yearning. So close, she smelled warm and sweet and tempting. All they was doing was lying there, looking at each other, and yet Sadie found she could hardly breathe, like there weren't enough air in the world, let alone their little tent, foolish as it may sound.

With her thumb, Sadie gently brushed the reddish-brown, rotten apple bruise on Mary's chin, where one of those nasty fellers'd hit her. She felt awful 'bout it. Sure, she hadn't been the one to put it there, but she'd still let it happen all the same, what with getting her fool self wrapped up with dangerous men and tangling Mary up 'long the way, despite her best intentions.

"Ah'm sorry," she whispered, her usual slurring rasp catching with emotion.

"Oh, Sadie," Mary breathed out, looking at her with such warm fondness Sadie nearly had to look away. Then she tipped her head slightly and kissed Sadie's thumb with soft lips.

Sadie colored, heart staggering in her chest. At her own forwardness, Mary's neck went pink, a terribly becoming flush inching all the way up from her collar to the bottom of her ears. Sadie swallowed thick past a throat gone bone-dry, dreadful embarrassed yet intrigued—the last person she'd laid like this with had been her husband, and before that... well, no one. She'd never imagined this for her again, let alone with another woman, and found she felt awful nervous, like a girl on her wedding night all over.

Still, when Mary tilted her shy face up, those dark lashes of hers fluttering closed and lips parting just slightly, Sadie weren't too nervous not to sway forward and kiss her.

Mary sighed 'gainst her lips and cocked her head just so, so their noses crossed just perfect to fit. Her mouth was soft and tender. It weren’t nothing like kissing a man, so far as Sadie could remember. No raspy stubble, no forcefulness, no heavy bulk. Sadie, she’d loved kissing Jakey, and him her, but he weren’t here now, and she'd do well not to think on him right then.

Their kiss last night had been a rushed, messy thing, born of frantic emotions like blind fear and overwhelming relief. This here was something else, something slow and deep and clear, something with true intent and meaning, and Sadie had to pull away after only a few seconds, breathless and halfway overwhelmed already.

"Hey now," she huffed out in a short, husky laugh as Mary chased after her, the usually meek, demure woman boldly taking her by the jaw and holding her still before kissing her sweetly but firmly with an open mouth. The soft warmth of her tongue flickered out 'gainst Sadie’s bottom lip. Sadie moaned, way down low in her throat, and at the deep, gravelly sound, Mary gave a pleased little shudder and pressed herself close.

They kissed and kissed, ‘til Sadie’s mouth was sore and achy and swollen, ‘til they was gasping fierce and hungry for air and scrabbling at each other like a coupla drunkards. Sadie was tingling all over, feeling like a lit stick of dynamite ‘bout to explode. 

Trailing her mouth downwards, she littered kisses over Mary’s poor bruised chin and the sweet curve of her jawline. Her lips met cloth when she tried to go lower, Mary’s shirt buttoned primly right up to her neck. Sadie wanted badly to touch and kiss her there, but she weren’t ‘bout to presume she could just—

Mary reached up then, and, as if reading her mind, started to hastily undo the buttons of her shirt for her, and Sadie, well—she just laid there like a fool, right flabbergasted, staring with ever-widening eyes at the strip of smooth skin being slowly revealed before her.

Flushed pink to the tips of her ears now, Mary shrugged herself out of her shirt and tossed it aside, looking almost like she couldn't quite believe what she was doing. Sadie couldn't hardly fathom it, neither. Something 'bout knowing it was shy little Mary Linton undressing for her brought a scalding red heat to Sadie's neck and face and a full, giddy feeling to her heart.

Half-naked and shivering, Mary looked briefly mortified with herself, even her thin little shoulders gone red now, appalled by her own wanton behavior, prob'ly waiting on the Lord to strike 'em down, good Christian woman she was and all, though Sadie hoped He'd wait least 'til they was done 'fore smiting 'em, if He were so obliged. She leaned forward and kissed one of those reddened shoulders, feeling the warmth of the blood pulsing just under the surface, and then brushed her calloused palm over the soft skin of Mary's slender arm, careful of her bandage.

Everywhere Sadie was whiplean and hard and weathered, Mary was deliciously soft, tender, and round. Her torso was dappled through with a constellation of beauty marks, the skin there visibly paler than her hands or face, her delicately winged collarbone flexing and bowing with every breath she took. Her lightly heaving breasts were full and plush and slightly sloping, her nipples dusky red and straining, and below, the brief jut of her ribs led down to the swooping line of her stomach, rising and falling in time with her quick, shallow gulps of air. Her bellybutton was a tiny dimple, half-hidden by the waist of her skirt.

Intrigued, Sadie reached out and brushed one of Mary’s nipples with the rough pad of her thumb and bit her lip sharply when Mary moaned and trembled at her touch. Suddenly she wanted nothing more'n to do it again, to feel Mary everywhere, kiss her all over. There was so much she ached for, she didn’t know where to start, and for a good moment or two just laid there frozen, lost.

Then, remembering the things she and her husband used to get up to, the things she'd liked done to her and the things she'd loved even more, Sadie decided to start there, and kissed her way, slow and tortuous, down the warm hollow of Mary’s bobbing throat to her heaving chest. She followed the rise of a soft breast and kissed the peak, then took a hard nipple into her mouth, rasping her tongue 'cross the stiff bud, the nipple swelling harder as she sucked gently. 

“ _Sadie_ ,” Mary hissed into her hair, clutching at her shoulders with a white-knuckle grip, fingernails pinching through the cloth, sounding almost scandalized, like she couldn’t believe what Sadie was doing, despite being a woman near-twice married and to an outlaw, at that.

Rather'n answer her, Sadie latched her mouth even tighter and sucked hard and cruel now, working her tongue in a slow, tight spiral. Mary practically squealed, her back coming up off the bedroll in a seizing jerk, like a frenzied horse bucking, moaning and squirming 'til Sadie let her go with a wicked wet noise, only to nose her way over to her other breast, flicking her tongue over and around her neglected, swollen nipple there. 

“Sadie,” Mary whispered again, shaky now, voice hushed, like she were afraid someone might be listening, even all the way out here, in the middle of goddamn nowhere.

Hearing her name like that, Mary's faint western drawl gone all high and desperate and whiney, Sadie growled deep in the pit of her throat, switching back and forth ‘tween Mary’s breasts ‘til the poor woman was a sorry, gasping mess, her flushed chest prickled with sweat, long, loose threads of her thick dark hair clinging to her fine neck and shoulders, jaw hanging slack as she moaned weakly—abandoning her breasts, Sadie just had to kiss that open, begging mouth of hers again, swiping her tongue deep and firm 'gainst Mary’s, burying those wonderful pleading moans under her shuddery own.

Reaching down, she drew a daring handful of Mary’s thick skirts up, feeling her shiver as the air in the tent hit her bare calves. Her knees fell open encouragingly, and Sadie shimmied forward and slid her hips ‘tween ‘em. Heart in her throat, she ran her palm up Mary’s warm, giving thigh, and the soft, delicate hairs there. Mary gave a choked little moan and quivered madly when Sadie stroked behind her knees, and Sadie had to pause and kiss her breathless again, she was so damn beautiful, ‘fore tryna slide her hand even higher, to the damp, steaming heat above.

“Wait,” Mary whispered suddenly, and Sadie stopped at once, gasping shallowly, heart thudding wild in her ears and head spinning like she was plum-drunk on a whole crate of whiskey, feeling like she’d already gotten more than she ever believed she deserved from a woman so lovely and giving and wonderful, and it'd be just fine if Mary wanted to stop or'd changed her mind—

But then Mary was fumbling at the laces at her waist with clumsy fingers, eyes heavy and dazed and her pale chest splotched red, breasts littered with harsh purpling marks from Sadie’s mouth, lips and teeth. Sadie felt a sharp pulse, seeing 'em, knowing she'd been the one to put 'em there, and—

“Help me,” Mary gasped, and Sadie blundered and obliged, their hands bumping as they worked together to loosen the ties so Mary could take off her skirt, kicking it down to their feet along with her underthings, leaving her entirely naked on the bedroll. 

They kissed again, then, deep and rough and messy. Nothing had ever felt so good in Sadie’s arms than a naked, moaning Mary Linton, panting high and sharp right in her ear. Teeth bared, Sadie pushed on top of her with a low groan, kissing her hard enough the back of Mary’s head hit the ground. Mary whimpered and pulled at the bottom of Sadie’s shirt, yanking the hem from her trousers with desperate hands, popping a button in her mounting frustration.

“Easy now,” Sadie breathed out 'gainst her red, panting mouth, her voice on the edge of an affectionate laugh.

“Please,” begged Mary, seeming near on the verge of tears.

Sadie obliged again, and together, like they'd done with Mary's skirt, they worked Sadie out of her own clothes—shirt, trousers, underthings and socks, even pausing to undo her braid—‘til she lay just as naked and exposed as the other woman, skin prickling in the open air of the dimly glowing tent. All the while, Mary darted furtive, bashful glances at Sadie’s lean arms and rangy torso, her knotted shoulders, her hard thighs, the dark gold thatch of hair ‘tween her legs. 

“Oh, Sadie,” she gasped out at last, and reached for her. Her knee crooked and rose and settled itself back atop Sadie’s hip. Sadie took her by the jaw, tilted her face and kissed her deeply, and, 'fore she might lose her courage, slid her hand from Mary’s trembling bare hips into the dark, damp hair below. 

At the first careful touch, they both moaned quietly, Mary in pleasure, Sadie in disbelief. Beneath her fingers, Mary was hot and wet and soft as satin. Sadie rubbed at her slowly at first, marveling at the slippery feel, then searched and found her hard, swollen bump, focusing there as Mary loosed a sharp cry, her hips shuddering wildly and rutting back at her. The knee propped on Sadie’s flank rose higher. Dizzy, drunk on Mary's sweet mouth and tender skin, Sadie sunk her hand further back, into the hot, sopping give of her, and Mary sobbed and bucked back desperately, urging her deeper inside, her hands two strangling vice-clamps on Sadie's shoulders, scrabbling for purchase.

Abruptly, tears rose hot and burning in the back of Sadie’s throat. Her head was a swimming mess, like she'd tumbled off her horse. She couldn’t think, couldn't speak. All she could see was Mary. All she could hear was her quick, frantic breaths. Her nose was filled with her smell, her mouth with the taste of her skin. Their naked bodies were stuck together with sweat, dark locks of hair tangled up with frayed, straw-colored strands. Surrounding Sadie's fingers was a wet, pulsing heat that rippled with her every move, near searing. Her heart felt tight and full and fearfully exposed. 

She froze suddenly, jerking still right there with her hand 'tween Mary's legs and her mouth open 'gainst her slender neck, Mary making a confused, desperate little, “ _Wuh?_ ”

“This ain’t why,” Sadie rasped. She was painful aware of the absurdity of her timing, and their dual nakedness, her kiss-swollen mouth and flushed face, the way her messy hair was sticking to her sweaty temples and clinging to the back of her neck, but she was desperate for Mary to listen, to understand. “This ain’t why Ah saved you. Y'know that, right? Ah never s'pected nothin’ fer doin’ it. Not this—not you—Ah—”

“Oh, Sadie,” Mary said breathlessly, looking like she might like to cuff her for saying something so very stupid, 'specially right then, when Mary'd been focused on something else quite entirely. "'Course I know that, you silly fool.” Her tone made it clear it'd never even entered her mind that Sadie might've expected any sort of reward for what she’d done, or could ever be such a scoundrel as to think she deserved one so precious as this.

Feeling mighty stupid and vulnerable but also awful relieved and thankful beyond measure, Sadie nodded bashfully. Though she were still flushed and trembling, Mary gave her a kind smile, cupped her face and kissed her slowly, their tongues sweeping together with a quiet slipping sound. Sadie loved it, loved the feel of Mary’s soft, wet mouth 'gainst hers, the delicate rasp of her tongue and the taste of her lips. As if in apology, her wet hand twitched anew and Mary gasped, hips twitching right back. The hot clamp 'round Sadie's fingers tightened up. Sadie bore down and then kept at it, stroking in time with the erratic sway of Mary's hips, mindful not to go too hard, though Mary's cries only seemed to be growing louder'n ever. With her other hand, she worked one of Mary's nipples in circles, swallowing down her sobbing moans with heady kisses as she squirmed beneath her.

'Fore long, Mary cries came even sharper'n before, and suddenly she seized Sadie's flexing wrist in a panicky sort of way as if to make her stop. Sadie did, more'n a bit panicked herself, thinking maybe she'd done something wrong, but then Mary went perfectly still but for her hips, thrusting hard 'gainst her fingers once or twice, eyes squeezed closed and face all screwed up, looking almost like she was in pain. Beads of sweat dotted her breasts, her heaving ribcage. Sadie wanted to lap ‘em all up with her tongue but didn’t dare move 'til she was told to.

A few seconds went by, and then Mary was sighing and relaxing back onto the bedroll, letting go of Sadie's wrist with a warm, dreamy expression of her face, like, like she—

Sadie gulped. Mary went limp, and as she caught her breath, Sadie carefully pulled her hand away, fingers sticky and slick with a woman's dew. At the sight, Mary moaned weakly and covered her face with an outflung arm, properly modest lady she was and all. Sadie didn’t resent her none for it—she understood what they’d done just now and what it meant, two women taking carnal pleasure together and what have you, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel strange ‘bout it, either. That, though, she'd think on later.

Gone a bit shy herself, she laid a tender kiss on Mary’s pointed elbow, then her soft shoulder and on up her neck. By the time she reached her glowing pink ear, Mary had lifted her arm from her face and was watching her intently, looking almost like someone expecting a scolding, as if she'd been caught doing something that might get her in a heap of trouble. Sadie, she just smiled and kissed her on the mouth, and by the time she pulled away, Mary didn’t seem so scared as before. Her eyes had gone all warm and sappy, like they usually did when she looked at Sadie these days, and knowing now what it meant, Sadie felt her chest go tight with elation. 

"Did Ah hurt you?” Sadie felt she needed to ask. Mary’s blush returned anew and she shook her head wordlessly. "Good," said Sadie, relieved. Last thing she'd ever want to do was hurt Mary, either on purpose or by accident, 'specially like this.

The tent felt warm now from the heat bouncing 'tween the two of 'em, all wrapped up in each other, but Sadie still rose up on one elbow, hunting for the blanket. Mary always got cold at night once she fell asleep, and she'd be damned if—

A cool palm landed on Sadie’s bare side, a soft, uncalloused thumb tracing the skin just under her breast. Sadie inhaled sharply and had to fight not to jump like a skittery horse. She looked down to find Mary staring straight at her naked chest, her proper-bred meekness from before nowhere to be found. “Y… Y’don’t hafta do nothin’ y’don’ wan' to—” Sadie started hastily.

With great deliberation, Mary leaned forward and kissed Sadie’s flapping chin, silencing her with a small "erp." Her mouth was warm and gentle as it worked its way up the hard line of her jaw to her earlobe, and then downwards, over the flushed side of her neck to her stark collarbones. By the time she reached her chest, Sadie had slumped helplessly backwards, sprawling herself on the bedroll with quivering limbs. She was already so far gone that at the first shaky touch to her breasts, her hips jolted and she had to force ‘em still with effort. Mary made a pleased sound at that, almost like a fond laugh, and then brushed Sadie’s nipples with a slow pass of her sinfully soft palms ‘fore taking one, then the other into the hot clasp of her mouth in turn, sucking each painful slow, the scatter of her loose hair trailing down over Sadie's bare stomach and sides, tickling her faintly.

Sadie squeezed her eyes shut and bit her tongue but couldn’t stop herself from trembling fiercely. These were the places only her husband had ever touched and kissed, and even then, it'd been years since last they'd made love. After everything she'd lived through, those awful times and all the men she killed, the sins she'd committed, what'd she gone and done for her to ever deserve something so wonderful as this?

When Mary’s hand lowered down past her flat, flexing belly and cupped at the heat of her, Sadie didn’t jump, just whimpered pitifully and spread her legs shamefully wide. She heard Mary’s breath catch, then felt her slender fingers part through her aching slickness, sliding over and around her lower lips ‘til her hand was good and soaked and Sadie was shaking like a leaf. She opened her eyes, desperate to see Mary's face then. Mary was gazing downwards, looking mighty unsure of herself, but also curious and keenly determined, and Sadie, she couldn't help but admire her for that bold, shaky courage, quick-forged and new. 

" _Fuck_ ," she rasped under her breath, sure Mary heard the ragged curse but unable to swallow it back. She was awful close. Mary took pity on her, then, and kissed her soft and gentle on the mouth while below, her clever fingers found Sadie’s sweet spot and rubbed her over and over 'til her body clenched like a fist and the white-hot limb-numbing pleasure of a climax months, hell, maybe even _years_ in the making washed the world away.

Everything went soft and murky for a time. Sadie waited ‘til her hands and feet had stopped their fierce tingling 'fore reaching out blindly and taking Mary into her arms. They were both still gasping for air, their bodies slick and sticky with sweat, the air in the tent gone thick and stuffy with their heady scents, the lantern burned down to nearly nothing at all. Somehow, even after all that, it still felt like Sadie couldn’t get close enough to the other woman, not at all. Her heart thumped painfully, thinking on what they'd done, happy it'd happened but worried what it might mean, and scared of all the ways it could go wrong.

But Mary, she hadn't pulled away yet, hadn't rebuffed the rain of her sleepy, tired kisses, so Sadie took what strength she could in that, and in the solid feel of her in her arms just then.

Finally, her exhaustion began to seep in, weighing down her limbs with a heaviness she couldn’t shake. Her eyelids fluttered and her head started to bob. 'Fore she might collapse, she groped about and at last caught the edge of the folded blanket, pulling it up and over 'em, tucking Mary in good and tight so she'd be warm. There were still so many things she wanted to tell her—precious, dangerous things—but already she could see Mary was nodding off, too. Sadie gave her one last brief kiss, and felt Mary's lips twitch 'gainst hers in a dreamy smile.

Tomorrow, they'd face this—them, and what they'd become to each other and how the rest of the big, crowded, fearful world might react—but for now, that big world had shrunk down to their tiny tent, and the two of ‘em wrapped up in each other so tight Sadie didn’t think they’d ever let go. She fell asleep with her nose tucked into the hair by Mary's ear, listening to the soft sounds of her breathing and the distant yip of a lone coyote making its way home.

—

When Sadie woke, the sun was just coming up, turning the side of their canvas tent a soft rose color. Mary was curled 'gainst her chest, deeply asleep. Sadie watched her for a time, feeling like some damn lovesick fool, stupidly enchanted by her every breath and twitch, the thick splay of dark curls falling 'cross her beauty-marked neck, the wide, delicate fan of her eyelashes, the plush pink curve of her slightly open mouth. Christ, she was beautiful. Sadie weren't sure she'd ever get tired of the sight of her.

'Fore long, Mary woke with a quiet inhale. When she saw Sadie watching her, she grew instantly bashful, prob'ly thinking on what they'd gotten up to last night, though not for a moment did her eyes go hard and cold with shame or guilt or resentment. Seeing that, a hidden part of Sadie's heart she'd held back and kept safe 'til now softened and at last came free.

"Mornin'," she rasped, throat still half-clogged with sleep and a powerful, brimming affection.

Cheeks pink, Mary smiled up at her and blinked drowsily. "I was dreamin'," she murmured, rubbing at her face with one of those soft white palms of hers.

"Oh?" said Sadie, propping her head up on her hand and leaning on her elbow, grinning down at the other woman playfully. “A good dream, Ah hope?”

Mary smiled again, wider this time, and pressed her nose to Sadie’s lean shoulder, a puff of warm air hitting her skin as she gave a soft laugh. “A silly one, but yes," she admitted shyly. "It was good.” Sadie's breath caught as she turned and looked endearingly up at her, her eyes dark and warm and happy. “The best.”

Then, not shyly at all, Mary reached up and took a handful of frayed, straw-colored hair at the back of Sadie's neck and pulled her down for a slow, muzzy morning kiss, her lips soft and eager and impatient.

Eventually they left the tent and set to making themselves a rather late breakfast, the horses nosing impatiently forward to be fed, the sun already climbing towards noon. Afterwards, they broke down camp, though Sadie found it difficult to focus, distracted with watching Mary do this or that or the other, charmed by even something so mundane as her folding a blanket or packing up a saddlebag, and nearly dropped her fry pan on her foot in her carelessness. She laughed at herself 'til she noticed Mary doing the same, the two of 'em shooting quick, furtive glances at one another 'cross the campsite. Every time their eyes would meet, they’d freeze a moment and move shyly on, or share a small, secret grin 'tween 'em, or Sadie would wink and smirk and Mary would look hastily away, color sitting high in her cheeks and lips caught in a giddy little smile of her own.

Christ, she loved her, Sadie thought, and then felt herself stagger at the very idea that she were capable of such a thing. Before Mary, something so tender and delicate as love couldn't have existed for Sadie, not after what she'd gone through, what she'd survived. But the Sadie here and now, darting warm looks with a new lover, body still sore and aching from the touches they'd shared, she remembered what it'd felt like, those full, happy days with Jakey in their mountain cabin, the fierce flutters in her chest and belly every time she saw 'im, the same ones she were feeling now when she looked at Mary. This here was a woman Sadie might like to try and spend the rest of her days with, and play her harmonica for on quiet nights 'round the fire. Someone she could trust to watch her back and protect her just as fierce as Sadie did them. Not a woman to be kept, or hidden, but a woman to stand by her side and walk with her, hand in hand.

“Mary," she asked in a sudden, breathy whisper, just 'fore putting her boot in Hera's stirrup, "will you ride with me?”

Doing up Francine's bridle, Mary paused and turned to face her, seeming to understand the importance of the question, carefully phrased. That it was more'n just Sadie asking her to trot 'long with her on horseback as they wandered from place to place 'cross the states—it was Sadie, asking Mary to stay by her side for as long as she liked, to keep on with her toward whatever might come next, and feed the bloom of this new love they shared to see how it might grow into something lovely and strong and grand. It was making a life together, or trying to, as best they could, them two lost souls who'd found each other, lost in a graveyard of sorrow, and made their way out with hands tightly clasped. 

“I'd go anywhere with you, Sadie Adler,” Mary said in a voice steady and true, and well... that was just 'bout all Sadie'd ever needed to hear, plain and simple.

“Alrigh', then,” she said gruffly, her usual husk gone deep and blurry, and turned 'round to fiddle with Hera's saddle, coughing and blinking hard and fast to clear away the grateful tears suddenly filling her eyes and crawling up her throat. If Mary noticed her struggle for composure, she didn’t mention it, just set to fastening Francine's reins up good and proper.

When it was time, they mounted their horses. Tipping her hat back, Sadie glanced beside her and found Mary waiting patiently with a smile, a look of powerful affection and trust on her face. She nodded, Sadie nodded back, and together, they heeled their horses forward, towards the road and whatever lay beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can I get a yeehaw if yer lit


End file.
